


we're the ones who live

by madkingray



Series: we're still here [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Eventual Sex, M/M, Minor Character Death, Sheith Big Bang 2017, Slow Burn, Trans Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-06 19:36:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 78,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12217539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madkingray/pseuds/madkingray
Summary: Shiro and Keith through the seasons, meeting in a world where the dead walk among them and eventually learning how to survive together.





	1. Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Hey. I'm a few days late on this but this is my fic for the Sheith Big Bang! I've been working on this since the end of March and completed it at the end of August, and then I went into editing this whole thing and it's been beta'd up until now. I wanted it to be close to perfect (in my eyes) because this fic is my baby now. I've never written anything this big and I'm very proud of it. I cried when I finished it, okay.
> 
> I really, really need to thank my two biggest supporters for this fic. They both encouraged throughout it all and also had to deal with me yelling about literally the whole fic. Like?? Every single day. They're both very important to me and I love them with all my heart so thank you so much, Mack and Aki, for everything you two have done for me and all the help you gave me for this fic. I really appreciate it all.
> 
> I had a few betas comb through this, including those two very important people, so I just want to say thank you for literally saving my ass. I appreciate all of you, god. Thank you so much.
> 
> Anyways! I hope you all enjoy this fic and love it as much as I do! This fic is heavily inspired by The Walking Dead, The Walking Dead Game, and The Last of Us. Any zombie related thing I consumed (ha!) pumped more inspiration to me. Also, the title of this fic is taken from The Walking Dead. Rick Grimes says it in Season 5 Episode 15, Try.

Summer

 

“We got a new one.”

Shiro looks up to see his friend, Pidge, leaning in through his window. He shuts off the sink and grabs a small towel to start drying one of the cups, offering a small hum of interest. “A new what?” he asks, only mildly curious.

“Not a what, a who.” Pidge pulls back only to stick her leg through the window, easily swinging herself inside. Shiro simply shakes his head, amused over how often she does that. “Mark and Rita found someone on their supply run and convinced them to join us. I haven’t seen them yet but they’re going to be introduced to the group later on.”

“Guess that means we’ll be having a community meeting.” Shiro sighs and hands the cup off to Pidge, who places it in his cupboard, before grabbing another to dry. “We haven’t had someone new in awhile, I wonder what they’re like.”

“Well, _I_ wonder about how many infected they’ve killed.” Pidge sounds excited at the thought, as she tends to be whenever she tries to get stories about people’s experience outside their community. “Maybe they’ve been out there from the start, or maybe they were in a community like us and decided to go off on their own! I hope they tell us.”

“You can ask, I’m sure.”

They work in silence until his sink is cleared of all dishes. He uses the towel to wipe away the water that’s dripped around the sink and once he places it on the counter, someone knocks on his door.

“Come on in,” Shiro calls out.

“Don’t have to, I only needed to tell you that the meeting’s going to start soon.” Rita’s voice says before she pauses. “Is Pidge with you? Saves me the trip of going to her house.”

“She’s here,” Shiro answers, looking over at her. “We’ll see you soon.”

The excitement is back on Pidge’s face. “Looks like we’re going to meet them.”

They walk out of the house together and Shiro doesn’t bother locking it since he doesn’t have to. Knowing everyone here is a bit of a relief, since he can trust them just fine.

“I wonder which house they’ll get.” Pidge says in a curious tone, looking around them. “I don’t remember how many we have left.”

“Don’t worry, there are still plenty of empty ones. Maybe Allura will let them choose. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Shiro almost doesn’t see their newcomer when he sits down on one of the benches, only noticing them when Allura points them out with a smile.

“This is Keith,” she announces and he watches _Keith_ straighten up, arms crossed and expression neutral. “He was out there for quite some time and it took a while for Rita and Mark to convince him to come here.” Allura then turns to look at him, still keeping her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “We’re all a community here and we all know each other very well. If you find yourself having a problem with one of our own I’d like you to speak directly to me, okay?”

Keith nods his head once and stares at them all without saying a word. His pale face still shows nothing, hair resting messily at the nape of his neck—dark, just like his eyes. They flicker over every person in the small crowd as Allura introduces them one by one before they scan the area around them with wariness on his face. He also keeps one gloved hand (fingerless gloves) on the handle of the knife that rests on his hip.

He seems tense in a way that Shiro rarely sees, used to everyone being relaxed since they’re safe in the community.

_Does he not get that yet?_

“You can take the house next to Shiro, Keith. He can show you how to get there.”

Shiro raises a hand to catch Keith’s attention and offers a small wave. He gets a raised eyebrow in acknowledgment followed by the tiniest nod.

Allura claps her hands together and smiles brightly. “Okay! You two can go do that while I talk to the rest. I’ll stop by later to give you a job for the week, Shiro.”

“Alright, see you then.”

Keith moves the moment Shiro stands up, matching his pace as they walk. He’s still looking around and Shiro thinks he can detect a hint of curiosity in his gaze. He’s also glancing at Shiro from time to time, not even trying to hide it.

“Were you out there for long?” Shiro asks to try and start a conversation, cringing internally at how awkward it sounds. Allura just said that Keith was out there for some time. The silence after that is stifling and he feels his cheeks grow warm with embarrassment, ready to take it back. “Uh, neverm—”

“Long enough.”

His voice is soft and low, the kind that Shiro would like to hear again. He thinks he can feel Keith’s gaze on him after the thought and feels his ears burn, hoping that Keith is unable to hear his thoughts.

It’s a strange thing to worry about and he’s not even sure where the idea came from.

“Oh, um. Okay.” Shiro replies when it seems like Keith is waiting for one, breathing out in relief after Keith looks away.

They finally arrive at his house, and he leads Keith to the one right beside it. “This is your place,” Shiro says as he gestures towards it. “It’s got lighting, water, and there’s a portable heater if you happen to get cold at night or a fan if you get hot. I’ll be around if you have any more questions.”

A small sigh causes him to look Keith’s way again and he’s stunned when Keith’s eyes easily meet his own. They're a shade that he's never seen before and Shiro decides that they must be a dark purple. He also thinks that it fits him well, despite the fact that they barely know each other.

Keith inclines his head before walking up the steps. Shiro lingers outside to watch Keith enter his new home, but he doesn't spare Shiro another glance.

Shiro then heads into his own house and walks to the kitchen, fixing up a small bowl of instant mac and cheese as he waits for Allura. He finishes it by the time she arrives, placing the fork in the sink and the bowl in the trash before opening the door.

“Your job is simple,” she tells him the moment she enters. “All you have to do is show Keith around for the next few days. I’d also like for you to show him the different jobs that people have here so he can get an idea of what he’ll be expected to do once he’s settled in.”

“Okay, I can do that.” Shiro nods and then pauses. “I’m curious, though. Why me? You usually have Hunk do this sort of thing.”

“I don’t think Hunk can handle Keith, to be quite honest. Hunk is very sweet and kind but he also loves talking to new people, which brings them out of their shell and has them talking back.” Allura sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Keith barely talked to me when he was first brought in.”

“What makes you think I’ll be able to handle him?”

Allura simply looks at him, eyes far too knowing. “You’re easily one of the best members in this community, Shiro. You know when to be there for people even when they don’t know they need someone. There’s something about you that makes people want to listen to you or look to you for answers.” She smirks. “That’s why I made you second in command.”

“Was that your reason?” Shiro remarks dryly. “I thought it was because of my pretty face.”

“It does do wonders for the community morale.”

She leaves soon after that, reminding him that it’s lights out as she walks out the door. Shiro turns them all off as he goes upstairs to his room.

He does glance over at Keith’s house and thinks that he sees someone sitting on the roof, head tilted back like they’re gazing at the stars, but when he blinks the person is gone. Shiro figures it was his imagination.

Sleep comes easily, as always, and his last thought happens to be of Keith—wondering if he’ll like this place.

☆ ☆ ☆

Shiro’s up as the sun rises, already dressed as he eats a bagel with his coffee. He’s nearly finished with both when someone knocks, leaving him to stare at the door with some confusion. It’s too early for anyone close to him to be up (he’s the only one of his friends who likes to be up at this hour). Still, he walks to his door and opens it, surprised at who he sees, but understands why he’s there only seconds later.

Keith stands on his porch, wearing the same clothes from the night before (faded black jeans tucked into black boots, an equally faded grey shirt that’s topped with a patchy, red and black flannel). Shiro watches as his gaze flits all over him before meeting his own.

“You shouldn’t open the door when you don’t know who’s on the other side.” Keith says.

“I trust everyone here,” Shiro replies as he waves him in. Keith steps in after a moment’s hesitation and Shiro leaves the door wide open since they’ll be leaving soon. “Allura told you what we’re doing today, right?”

“She did, yes.”

“I thought I was going to have to go pick you up; didn’t expect you to also be an early riser.”

“I don’t sleep much.”

It goes silent, the kind where Shiro feels a bit uncomfortable. Keith either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice, looking around his kitchen with something akin to interest on his face.

“I have coffee.” Shiro offers and points at his coffeepot.

He gets a raised eyebrow in response, followed by a scoff. “Wow,” Keith says, sounding unimpressed. “You have coffee.”

“Do you not like—”

“I don’t want any.” The words are sharp with a hint of annoyance, possibly anger. Shiro bites back his response. “When are we going to leave?”

Shiro sets his mug down and tries not to frown. He’s tempted to ask him what’s wrong but Keith’s face is closed off, arms crossed as he leans against the wall, so he decides to not say anything, uncertain of the response he would receive.

They’re not friends. Not yet, at least.

“We can leave right now.”

They walk through the streets together, and while the morning silence is nice to Shiro, it seems to make Keith uneasy. He tells him where everyone lives, pointing out the houses as they pass by and giving little details about them along with descriptions of their usual jobs.

He then shows Keith exactly where said jobs are located, and an indescribable look appears on his face when they arrive at each area.

The only time he speaks is when they pass the front gates, pointing out the two people who stand in the watchtower they built, “Is that the only area where you have guards?”

“Yeah,” Shiro answers. “Everyone here takes shifts to go up and keep watch.”

“Interesting.”

People start coming out of their homes when the sun is higher and the heat starts to settle in, waving in Shiro’s direction. Some greet him upfront, but he knows it’s just so they can see Keith, noticing that their eyes slide to him from time to time.

A few even try to talk to Keith, asking about his day or how he likes the community. Keith never responds, stepping closer to Shiro and occasionally looking away. Shiro would say that it’s rude but the tense posture Keith has causes him to retract that thought, choosing to distract the other members with light conversation.

They all look disappointed when they leave.

Someone mentions having a welcome party for Keith, sounding excited and hopeful at the idea. Keith doesn’t respond to that either, face set in a scowl the moment he’s asked. Shiro waves them off by telling them to bring it up later, maybe when Keith is actually settled in.

He can feel Keith’s glare on him. He ignores it and moves on.

In the afternoon they’re back at Shiro’s house, Keith leaning against the wooden railing as Shiro sits on the bench. The two of them are quietly eating the apples that one of the others had given them on their way back.

There’s a small, fresh breeze that hits his skin and he’s grateful; the season hasn’t been too kind and he can already feel his shirt sticking to his skin from all their walking in the heat.

“So,” Shiro looks at Keith once they’ve finished eating, who gazes at the wall behind him. “What do you think?”

The reply comes instantly, apathetic but truthful. “It’s alright.”

That’s… not what he expected. “Just alright?”

“What else do you want me to say?” Keith shrugs and pushes himself off the railing, making his way down the steps. “It’s a good enough place to stay in, at least.”

He watches as Keith stops on the last step, fingers tapping along the wood, before he turns enough to meet Shiro’s gaze. “There’s one thing I don’t like, though. Actually, there are a few things I don’t like, but this one keeps bugging me.”

Concern trickles in and he allows it to show, mind ready to work out how to fix whatever Keith will mention, if possible. “What is it?”

Keith stares at him for a few seconds more before his eyes slide away, looking past his shoulder instead. “It’s too _normal,_ ” he says with a furrow in his brow. “Everyone here seems to act like there’s nothing wrong, drinking coffee and planning parties. I don’t understand how you can all think like that.”

Ah. So that’s why he reacted that way earlier. “While we’re in this community nothing can happen,” Shiro says. “We’re safe here.”

He catches the incredulous look on Keith’s face before he turns away completely and the laugh he lets out almost has Shiro wincing, obviously mocking.

“Is that what you think?” Keith asks and leaves without another word.

☆ ☆ ☆

Apparently his task to show Keith around continues for the next few days.

Keith meets him at the door, like he did the first day, and Shiro takes him inside all of the buildings, showing him places ranging from where they keep their food and supplies to the makeshift clinic they created. He catches the approving look at that one and feels the slightest bit of relief, unsure why Keith’s opinion matters so much to him.

As time passes with more spots visited, from the vegetable garden  to the stables with the two horses they own, more people find the courage to try and talk to Keith, leaving him looking only the slightest bit disgruntled as he remains curt. Everyone seems disappointed by that and Shiro almost wants to ask what they expected; he’s only been around Keith for a short time and he can already tell that he isn’t the type to make friends easily.

(He’d like to know why that is, actually. Shiro wouldn’t dare ask about it, figuring he could learn it on his own with time—however long that takes.)

There’s only one person undeterred by this so far, one of Shiro’s closest friends here.

“So,” Pidge says with no greeting, seemingly appearing out of nowhere while Shiro is showing Keith the garage where they keep their vehicles. She’s dressed in a green t-shirt, with her brown jeans tucked into dark green hiking boots. It’s her usual outfit, topped off with round glasses. “I heard that you use a machete, right? Has that always worked well for you? Do you manage to kill them in one hit or does it take multiple?”

Keith only raises an eyebrow.

She continues, curiosity evident in her words, “Have you been using it since the start? Do you prefer that to a gun? Do you even use guns?” Pidge stops suddenly, cheeks going pink. “Oh, uh, sorry for all the questions. I always like to ask new people things since, well, I’ve barely been out there myself.”

Shiro is about to tell Pidge to leave when the silence from Keith drags out to an awkward length, the excitement on her face dimming bit by bit. He ends up not needing to, staring at Keith in surprise when he actually responds to her.

“I’ve had it since the beginning, yeah. Usually it only takes one hit as long as I bring the blade down hard enough.” Keith doesn’t look at either of them as he speaks. “I can use a gun but it’s better not to since the sound will always catch their attention.”

Pidge looks delighted. “Could you teach me how to use it?”

“ _Pidge._ ”

“What? If I ever end up out there I want to know how to protect myself! I’m not too keen on a gun so a machete might be just what I need!”

Shiro narrows his eyes at her. She meets his gaze with her head held high. They stare at each other for a who knows how long, unwavering, only broken when they look over at Keith, who cleared his throat.

“I think a knife would suit you just fine,” Keith tells Pidge. “If they’re coming at you then aim for the temple, though you could also stab them through the eye—anywhere that can get to the brain, really.”

“Oh, wow.” Pidge says quietly. “That seems simple. But… a knife? Will that really keep me safe?”

“It can,” Keith speaks in a serious tone of voice. “Keep this in mind, alright? It’s not the weapon that keeps you safe, it’s _you._ It doesn’t matter what weapon you choose as long as you learn how to use it.”

There’s a call of her name and she turns around, Shiro following her line of sight. He spots two of their other friends waving in their direction and offers a wave of his own, ducking his head to hide his grimace when they rush over.

He peers over at Keith, who looks a bit overwhelmed, and steps closer to him in hopes of offering some comfort. Keith glances over with confusion on his face but he does relax, face clear when the trio turns to him.

Hunk takes a step closer with a genuine, friendly smile in place. “Keith, right? Are you enjoying your stay so far?”

Wearing dark brown jeans with beige boots and a yellow shirt that matches his bright personality (pure sunshine pouring out of one person), Hunk looks like the most welcoming person there. It’s usually why Allura chooses him to guide the newcomers.

Maybe it also helps with Keith, who answers after a long pause, “It’s been okay.”

“That’s good! I was kinda worried, since Rita said it took a long while for them to convince you to come here.” Hunk says. “She also said that it seemed like you _wanted_ to stay out there, which I couldn’t understand because, well, why would you?”

Keith gives no indication whether that statement is true or not, blinking at Hunk, and Shiro starts to wonder if it is.

Shiro shakes away his own curiosity, cutting in before anything else can be said and gesturing to each person as he introduces them, “This is Hunk, and that’s Lance standing beside him. You sort of know Pidge already since I said her name but, just in case, she’s the one in green.”

“The shortest of us all.” Lance grins, placing an arm on Pidge’s head. He’s wearing a baseball t-shirt, blue sleeves, and jeans rolled up at the ankles. His combat boots are a dark blue that borders black, laces loose and sides protruding enough to show off his shark patterned socks.

Shiro sighs when Pidge immediately kicks his leg, causing him to yelp and scramble away from her. Rubbing his hurt leg, Lance looks at Keith and declares, “Now it’s my turn to question you! I’ve been waiting for this moment since the night you were introduced.”

He steps closer to Keith, who immediately places a hand on his hip. When Shiro looks down he sees that Keith’s wrapped a hand around the handle of his knife. There’s a moment of stillness where he knows that Lance has noticed it as well because he pulls back, only pointing a finger in Keith’s direction.

“Why the mullet?”

Shiro sighs again. He hears Pidge and Hunk release matching ones.

“It’s not like I can just walk down the street and get a haircut,” Keith says, sounding defensive. “And it’s not a mullet. It’s just… long.”

“Doesn’t it bother you? It has to, right? Mine isn’t nearly as long as yours but I hate when it sticks to my skin.” Lance pauses and then says, in a much more upbeat tone, “I could cut it for you! I’m pretty good at giving haircuts!”

Keith looks unimpressed. He suddenly turns to Shiro and gives a nod, to which Shiro nods back uncertainly, and says, “I think I’m done for the day.”

“See you tomorrow?” Shiro doesn’t mean for it to come out like a question. Of course he’ll see him, just like the days that have passed.

He receives no acknowledgement and Shiro watches Keith walk away, keeping his eyes on him until he turns a corner and disappears. The quiet is broken by Lance, who lets out a noise of outrage that catches his attention.

“Did you see that?” Lance cries out, pointing at where Keith had gone and then to himself. “He just blew me off!”

“I would have too if you insulted my hair.” Pidge says dryly, adjusting her glasses.

“I didn’t insult his hair!”

“You called it a mullet, asked if it bothered him and then offered to cut it. I’d take that as an insult, especially if I didn’t know you.”

Shiro steps in before any arguing can start, giving each of them a push to the garage’s exit. “Come on, come on. We all have work to do.” He pauses and narrows his eyes. “Well, _you_ three have work to do. I’m done for the day.”

“Was your job showing Keith around? I’ve seen both of you all over the place these past few days.” Hunk helps him close the gate and Shiro locks it, humming to show that he’s listening. “I thought you’d be finished by now.”

“I’ve been taking it slow,” Shiro says. “I also think Allura wants him to find a job on his own rather than her picking something out for him. So far he hasn’t been interested in anything…”

“Have you told him about the people who go out for supply runs? Maybe you can casually pass by Mark and Rita’s house and start talking to them about it, that way it won’t feel planned or forced.”

Shiro blinks and then smiles. “That’s a pretty good idea. Thanks, Hunk.”

Hunk beams back at him and pats his back. “Anytime!”

He takes the time to drop them off at their respective jobs, with Hunk and Lance working at the watchtowers for the rest of the day, and Pidge with Coran for electronic maintenance and repairs. Shiro doesn’t go back to his house after, sitting on the steps of the small gazebo they have in the center of the community.

Leaning back on his elbows, he tilts his head back to enjoy the shade. He decides that he’ll go through with the plan Hunk gave him tomorrow, except maybe he’ll switch it up and talk to the two others that also go out on runs; unfamiliar faces to Keith.

“That’ll work,” he mumbles to himself, closing his eyes and relaxing even further.

☆ ☆ ☆

Someone knocking on the door is what wakes him. He forces himself to get up, putting his usual clothes on before answering.

“Allura?” Shiro rubs at his eyes, thinking he might be dreaming. Nope, she’s still on his doorstep, wearing denim capris and a pink shirt. Her long, white hair is pulled up into a bun with not a single hair out of place (Shiro always marvels at how she’s able to do that). “What are you doing here?” Seeing her stand there inflicts an odd sensation within him. Shiro can’t put a finger on why.

“Come with me,” she says and walks down the steps, waiting on the last one for him.

Shiro sneaks a peek over at Keith’s house as he follows her out. Right, that’s why. He’s already gotten used to seeing Keith every day so far since he arrived here. The unexpected break of the routine was strange to him. Should he let Keith know about the change of plans?

“I want to speak to you back at my office.” Allura tells him before they start walking. “Don’t worry about Keith, I already let him know that you’ll be able to resume tomorrow.”

He breathes out in relief and nods, grateful that she thought ahead. They stay silent until they reach her home, heading into her office once all the doors are shut. She offers him breakfast, jam on toast, and they sit across one another as they eat.

“Has he been doing well?” Allura asks after they’re done, gazing at him with bright and curious eyes. “I haven’t had the chance to ask him since I’ve been busy with other tasks, so I’d love to hear it from you. I was rather worried about him.”

“He’s…” Shiro starts, trying find the right word to use. “Adjusting,” he settles on, leaning back in his seat. “We know that he’s been out there for a long time, so of course it’s going to take a while to get used to this place.” He shrugs. “That’s all I can say, really. ”

“That’s good to hear! Has he shown interest in any job yet?”

“No, but I have yet to explain the supply run,s so that might be the one for him.”

Allura hums in agreement.

Figuring that they’re done with that subject, the discomfort over discussing Keith when he’s not even there only growing, Shiro leans forward. “What else did you want to talk about?”

She eyes him like she knows the reason for the change but says nothing about it, waving a hand as she says, “This and that.” Her expression shifts into one of worry as she continues in a more serious tone, “We may have to go farther out for supplies soon. I’ve been going over the recent reports from previous runs and everything is running low in the areas we usually hit.”

“Better than going into that market,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, and frowns. “But how far is the next area?”

“About thirty miles.”

“A trip like that will be hard to make when we’re also running low on gas.”

“Well,” Allura says thoughtfully. “We could always transfer it all into one car. Whoever goes out next can bring back more.”

“That’s something to keep in mind for the future, though.” Shiro points out. “The stores nearby may be running low but they’ll still have some things for the next supply run. We don’t need to go out for a while, right?”

“No, we’re all set for now.”

“Then at least we have a plan set for when it’s all emptied out.”

They talk about smaller things after that, mostly about the people and their supply stock, until it eventually becomes a comfortable silence. Shiro decides to excuse himself to head back home.

“If you need me I’ll be with Coran, we’ll be going over the perimeter to make sure nothing is wrong with our walls.” Allura smiles kindly at him. “Be sure to tell that to anyone who needs me.”

“I will,” he promises, closing the door and then leaving her house. Someone calls his name when he starts strolling down the street, so he turns and offers a smile in greeting.

“Hey Gwen,” he says as the person comes to a stop before him. “Did you need something?”

Gwen, a brunette with short hair and tan skin, smiles back at him. “Yes, actually. I was wondering if you could cover my watchtower shift tonight.” Her expression is apologetic, hands clasped together when Shiro sighs. “Please? I wanted to surprise Olivia with a dinner date. We haven’t had any time together and I don’t want her to feel lonely.”

Her girlfriend, Olivia, is someone he's only met twice. She's far too shy to venture out in the community on her own, apparently, and chooses to stay indoors most of the time. She's much taller than Gwen, with pale skin and black hair, and they've been together since before the world changed.

Shiro understands the need to reassure a loved one, not wanting to disappoint them. Probably not in the same context but it's what makes him agree.

“Alright, alright.” Shiro grumbles for show, lips twitching when she beams and hugs him. “That means you’ll have to take make up by taking shifts for two days in a row, you hear me?”

“You got it, boss!” Gwen says cheerfully, saluting him before she runs off.

He shakes his head in amusement, continuing his slow walk home.

An idea hits him as he’s walking up the steps to his own house. He stops, tapping on the wood with a fist before heading towards Keith’s instead. The door opens before he raises a hand to knock and they stare at each other, until Keith leans against the doorway. “What?”

“Sorry we couldn’t get anything done today,” he says, wondering why the hell he was apologizing for that. Judging by Keith’s raised eyebrow, he might be thinking it too. “I have a shift at the watchtower later, and I was wondering if you’d like to join me?”

Keith clicks his tongue, looking thoughtful. “I guess so,” he finally says after a moment, shrugging. “I mean, it’s not like I have anything else to do.”

He can’t contain his pleased smile. “Great! I’ll stop by later to pick you up,” Shiro says. “It’s not that hard, we just sit up there and keep an eye out for infected. We pick them off before they get too close to our gates and clean up the bodies first thing in the morning.”

“You have guns up there?” Keith asks, surprise in his voice. Maybe Shiro’s imagining the smallest hint of approval that also lies there.

“Sniper rifles with silencers.”

Keith inclines his head, moving back into his house. “See you later.”

“See you,” Shiro says to the closed door.

☆ ☆ ☆

Keith is waiting for him when it’s finally time to head to the watchtower, sitting on the steps with a look of disinterest as he gazes down the street. He does glance up at Shiro, standing up and brushing the dirt off his jeans.

“Let’s go.” Shiro says, and together they walk.

Two people are already up there when they arrive. Shiro calls out to them with a wave, ascending the ladder once they’re down and gone. He extends a hand to Keith, who only gives him a _look_ before ignoring it and climbing up with ease.

The sniper rifles are leaning against the wall on the side, carefully placed so they don’t tip out the opening between the roof and floor. They both take one and while Shiro simply holds his, Keith starts looking through the scope.

“I don’t think we’ll find anything right now,” Shiro tells him with a laugh, watching as Keith slowly lowers it. “Infected don’t really roam around here at night. There’s a curfew, remember? All the lights are turned off so nothing attracts them.”

Keith hums in response, yet he still does not tear his gaze away from the outside.

Sitting down on the one of the chairs, Shiro taps on the wood with the butt of his gun to gain Keith’s attention. “You can sit down and relax,” he tells him, gesturing to the other chair. “We’ll still be able to see like this.”

With one eyebrow raised, Keith sits down beside him but keeps a strong hold on the sniper rifle. “Can’t really relax when I know what’s out there,” Keith says. “How can you?”

“Because I know I’m safe in here.” Shiro feels himself smile, leaning back against the chair. “We’ve all been in here since the beginning and some of the military helped put up these walls. They kept us supplied the first two weeks, made sure we were all stocked up before they had to go. Said they’d come back with information but…”

“They never did,” Keith finishes and Shiro nods. “Being out there is tough when you don’t know what to do. You either die or force yourself to learn how to survive another day.”

“Did you have to learn?”

“I did, yeah, but it came to me easily.” Keith seems to hesitate for a few seconds before he continues, speaking softly. “Sometimes there are people who already were survivors for different reasons, and they simply adapt to the new circumstances, because they know what to do to keep themselves alive.”

“That makes sense,” Shiro replies, gazing at Keith. He wonders if Keith just gave a hint to his own past and wants to ask about it, wants to know so bad, but refrains from doing so. If Keith ever wants to tell him then he’ll be ready to listen. “I’m curious about one thing, though.”

“Of course you are.”

He asks the question carefully, one he’d been thinking for the past couple of nights, “Do you think we’re weak?”

“Yes,” Keith responds instantly, standing up and and pointing the gun in the direction of the trees. Shiro follows his line of sight and thinks he can spot movement there. “Pidge asked me to teach her how to use a weapon so I’m guessing others don’t know how to either.”

“They don’t want to and they don’t have to.” Shiro tries to defend them, but his argument sounds weak even to his own ears. “As long as we have a few who do know then we’ll be fine.”

“It’s dangerous and stupid.” Keith’s grip becomes firmer as an infected stumbles its way out, garbled noises faint from where they stand. “You can’t rely on your walls forever. They need to know how to protect themselves, at the very least.”

He doesn’t say anything against that because he can’t quite disagree with the last statement; deep down Shiro knows it’s true.

Keith takes a deep breath, completely focused on his task, and presses down on the trigger. The infected goes down from a bullet through the brain, with barely a sound, and Keith breathes out.

The sureness in his posture is admirable, a confidence that Shiro rarely sees in most people. Killing infected is easy, sure, but he’s never seen anyone who looks almost calm over doing so.

It took weeks for the shaking in his hands to cease and the hesitance to fade away, always imagining how the infected he’s shooting probably had a family or friend that could still be looking for them. As time passed it got easier, with the reminder that there’s no way to come back from the infection, and now his hands are as steady as Keith’s.

Did Keith ever feel that way?

Another one follows after the first, leg dragging behind them, and Shiro raises his gun to take it out before Keith can.

“Thank god you know what to do,” he hears Keith mutter. There’s a pause that follows, and then Keith speaks slowly, “You can’t exactly change your ways, and giving everyone weapons might confirm the fact that everything is not as okay as they think it is, but it’s better than losing what you have.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

Keith shrugs.

A weight is lifted off Shiro’s shoulders as the rest of their night shift is spent in a comfortable silence, feeling pleased at the possibility of a friendship with Keith.

☆ ☆ ☆

The supply run discussion takes place two days after.

Shiro decides to talk to one of the others, Damian, rather than Mark and Rita. Damian is an easygoing guy, brown hair in the style of an undercut and brown eyes hidden behind shades. He greets Keith and Shiro with a nod and, when asked about his latest run, goes into detail about the supplies he managed to retrieve and how many infected he had to kill.

Keith cuts in while Damian is talking about the antique radio he found, voice curious, “How often do you go on supply runs?” Keith’s eyes hold a spark of eagerness that Shiro has never seen before. “Do you keep stock on what you have here so you know what to get next time?”

“Yes, to the second one,” Damian answers with a friendly smile. “As for the first, well, it depends. If we run out of food or water then that would be our top priority, right alongside medicine. Though that doesn't mean we aren’t allowed to get things outside of that! Sometimes people will give us lists of what they need like clothes or stuff for their kids.”

Keith’s expression shifts to one of shock. “You have kids here?”

“Only a couple, you don’t see them much because their parents are really protective. They like to keep them in the house since they’re so young, says that it’ll keep them as safe as possible. There’s also one person expecting, so we get them anything that’ll make their pregnancy easier.”

With a small hum, Keith nods. He doesn’t seem to have anything else to ask nor does he try to keep the conversation going, so Shiro speaks up to inform Damian about what Allura said.

“We’ll have to go farther out in the future.” He copies the grimace that Damian instantly wears. “I know, I know, but it was already expected when we kept raiding the same stores over and over again.”

“It’ll be difficult, honestly,” Damian says, placing his hands behind his head. “Especially when we don’t know how much more infected will be milling around. What if there’s too many and they overwhelm us?”

“It’s either that or you starve,” comes Keith’s low voice, face serious. “Or risk letting your community die. You can’t let fear like that hold you back when people are counting on you.”

Shiro’s lips part in surprise and then he smiles. “That’s a pretty solid argument,” he comments, nearly laughing when Keith rolls his eyes. “An ideal I can get behind, actually.”

“When you put it that way I feel kinda bad for not trying as hard.” Damian lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head. He juts his thumb in the other direction. “I should probably go, I’m stuck in the gardens for today.”

He parts with a wave and Shiro continues walking with Keith, stopping in front of a smaller building and eyeing the gate on the side of it. “There’s one place I haven’t shown you,” Shiro says, smiling at the inquisitive noise Keith makes as he pushes it open. “Come on, follow me.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me what it is?”

“It’s a surprise.” Shiro waggles his eyebrows, and he allows himself to feel delighted at the twitch of lips he sees in response.

He leads Keith down the small path that stops at the building’s door, pulling out keys from his pocket to unlock it. Shiro waves Keith in first and gives him a few seconds to take it in before following after him.

The room he’s shown him is their armory, storage lockers and cabinets containing all the weapons that were brought to them when this community was just getting started. There is a lot of extra ammo as well, enough to last them for two years or more if they make their bullets count.

Keith’s back is to him but once Shiro enters he whirls around, lips set in a disapproving scowl.

“You can’t be serious,” he says hotly, gesturing to the opened cabinets. Shiro’s gaze wanders to the guns and back, honestly confused. “Keeping all your weapons out of reach? That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.”

“We’re not supposed to have them while we’re in the community,” Shiro says. “They’re only taken out when we’re going out on supply runs.” Keith raises an eyebrow and he hurries to continue, hoping it’ll explain their reasoning. “It’s for safety.”

Dark eyes regard him with the slightest hint of contempt before it vanishes, settling into a more neutral expression. “It surprises me that you’re all still alive,” is Keith’s parting comment as he pushes past Shiro and leaves the armory.

☆ ☆ ☆

He leaves Keith alone after that, not that it’s hard when Keith seems to be actively avoiding him.

Then again, he could just be busy with the community. Shiro knows that Keith has taken on a few tasks during those days due to passing comments from other members. He continues with his usual daily jobs, the worry creating something heavy and crushing in his chest.

Shiro wants to make it better, somehow.

On the fifth day he breaks, heading over to Keith’s house as the sun is setting and knocking on his door. A few minutes pass and Shiro shifts in place, embarrassed and feeling like a complete idiot. He turns, ready to go back home; he’ll try again tomorrow.

The door opens behind him and he stops, meeting Keith’s gaze when he looks back. Keith seems a bit tense as he stares back at him but then he suddenly relaxes, opening it wider.

“Do you want to look at the stars?” Keith asks.

Shiro soon finds himself on the roof of the house, the attic within it making it easy to get up there. Keith looks tranquil beside him, leaning back on his palms. The stars shine bright and clear overhead when curfew arrives. Shiro realizes that it’s been some time since he’s stopped to admire them.

Does Keith do this often?

“I wanted to go to space,” Shiro offers and knows that he has Keith’s attention by the tilt of his head. “When I was a kid, I mean. I had all kinds of books and posters related to the subject, I even planned on going to a school that would have given me the chance to go up there. In the end I couldn’t go because of, well,” he holds up his arm, the prosthetic one, and shrugs. “I was your typical space kid.”

“I was one too,” comes Keith’s soft response, legs stretched out and face pointed towards the sky. Shiro mirrors his position but keeps his eyes on him, listening as he speaks, “The stars became a comfort to me, especially when I needed one most. They sometimes felt more like home than all the ones I’ve been in.”

_Homes._

Shiro doesn’t comment on it, instead looking to the stars with a smile of his own. “I completely understand. They were comforting for me too. I could always count on them to be there.”

In his head he’s mapping out all the constellations, taking them in with the same enjoyment he felt growing up. He traces them with his eyes, over and over again until the shapes come alive even when he blinks. Only Keith’s small noise draws his attention away from them, blinking at the nervous expression on his face.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted, I shouldn’t have said what I said. Taking my frustrations out on someone isn’t the way to go about this.” Keith releases a tired sigh. “You’re all good people, and I’m sure this community can continue to thrive like it has been doing already.”

Shiro slides his hand closer so their fingertips touch and Keith goes rigid beside him.

This is the first touch initiated and he swears his heart might leap out of his chest, nerves making his throat dry. Keith does not move away from it so Shiro says nothing, taking that as a good sign. The silence only continues and he takes the opportunity to reply when Keith slowly starts to loosen up.

“The way you spoke may have been harsh at times but you did make some good points.”

Keith’s voice is quiet. “I’m still sorry.”

“Then I forgive you.”

They stay out there for another hour, enjoying each other’s company without another word said and only making their way back inside when they both start yawning. Keith goes through the window first and holds out a hand to help Shiro inside.

He takes it gratefully, murmuring a small “thank you” as he stands in the attic. Keith walks him to the door, and even to the porch, offering a wave when he starts walking home.

Stopping in the middle of the street, Shiro looks back to see Keith already heading back in. He calls out to him and smiles when he turns around. “Sleep well,” Shiro says kindly.

Keith smiles back at him.

Despite the dim lighting of the porch he can still see it just fine: a small one, bordering shy, that lights up his face. Shiro recognizes, distantly, that he must look like a fool for staring so long but he can’t look away.

The response comes not even seconds after that, friendly and soft, “You too, Shiro.” Keith then heads into his house and Shiro stays standing there, with warm cheeks and an equally warm chest.

Eventually he forces himself to move, rubbing at his cheeks as he walks up the porch steps to his own home. He lingers outside as he recalls Keith’s smile, already seared into his memory. Shiro groans and buries his face in his hands, ears burning.

_I want him to smile all the time._

He steps in as the thought settles, the realization hitting him hard only seconds later. With his back pressed against the door, he slowly sinks to the floor. Shiro covers his mouth with one hand as he stares wide-eyed at his boots, feeling his heart tremble beneath his rib cage.

 _I_ like _him._

☆ ☆ ☆

A couple of weeks pass where they don’t see each other much, this time on better terms. Shiro’s busy with his own jobs and Keith’s still trying to find the one that’ll be right for him. He admitted this the one time they were able to hold a conversation, warmer than before.

Shiro’s a bit thankful for the lack of Keith, if only because the revelation has become a constant in his mind. It leads him to thinking about how many times he had Keith in his thoughts, how his features always jumped out to Shiro whenever he glanced over, how he savored anything learned about him and only wanted to know more and more.

Yeah, it should have been obvious.

Keith drops by one day when he’s done with his job, sitting at his porch, and passes over a water bottle that Shiro chugs down gratefully. After wiping his mouth, his eyes stray towards the amused quirk to Keith’s lips as he leans against the wooden pillar. He can’t stop staring.

“Long day?” Keith asks.

He forces his eyes up to meet his, bobbing his head. “Moving furniture around is not something I expected to do today.” Shiro says and rises from his seat, opening his door and waving him in. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah, I want you to move my furniture too.” Keith lets out a small huff of laughter, almost silent, and Shiro wishes he could hear an actual laugh. They’re in the kitchen now, and Shiro’s pretty hungry at the moment. “I actually did need something, though.” Keith continues. “Allura asked me to go on a supply run and I wanted you to go with me. I already have the lists.”

“Did she tell you to ask me?”

“She did, but I would have asked you anyways.”

Shiro tries not to smile, feeling himself grow warm all over. He grabs the correct items needed to make a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich and puts together two, handing one over to Keith and sitting across him at his kitchen table.

“Of course I’ll go.” He’s rewarded with a smile from Keith.

Keith stays until it’s almost curfew, the two of them chatting about nothing. A promise is forced (but also not) out of him to get enough rest for the next day, and Shiro makes sure Keith will do the same. They shake on it before Keith departs and Shiro slips into bed earlier than usual, eager to sleep the hours away until he’s closer to going on that supply run.

The nearby shopping center isn’t that far out but they leave early in the morning at Shiro’s suggestion, wanting to come back at a time when the sun is still shining in the sky.

Their vehicle of the day happens to be a dusty old thing, able to blend in with every other abandoned car around them. _No one will take things from something that looks unusable,_ his friend Coran had said, and Shiro is inclined to believe him since that trick has been working well for them.

He parks a street away from the shopping center, positioning the car so it seems like the person driving it veered off the road and tried to escape from that.

At least, Shiro thinks it’ll look like that.

Every store they go into barely has anything they need, or not enough of it. It leads to frustration on both of their parts, the failure weighing down on Shiro’s shoulders as more time passes.

One place they have yet to enter is a large market that’ll definitely contain everything on their lists, but it also happens to be a place he’d rather not go to. Shiro tries to pass by it quickly and he knows that Keith has seen it by the way he turns to it, grabbing his arm before he can walk towards it.

“We don’t go in there,” he tells him with a shake of his head, loosening his hold when Keith narrows his eyes. “We lost a couple of people the last time we tried. We didn’t expect so much infected.”

He thinks he spots sympathy in Keith’s face, eyes understanding. There’s a pang in his chest at seeing this and he has to look away for a moment, staring at the building ahead. Keith has undoubtedly lost people before and figuring that out makes him ache for the man.

What a world they live in.

“Shiro,” Keith says. “We came out here for a reason and we can’t go back with nothing in our hands.”

“We can drive to the next area. It’s only 30 miles out.” Shiro hopes he doesn’t sound too pleading.

“Will we make it back before it gets dark?”

“Probably not,” Shiro admits after mulling it over, releasing a breath. He looks at Keith again and takes in his determined expression, feeling the tiniest amount of shame. His mind provides him with the memory of words Keith said to Damian not so long ago, and that gives him the courage to take a step forward.

( _“You can’t let fear like that hold you back when people are counting on you.”_ )

A thought hits when they start walking. Shiro can’t find his own answer so he turns to Keith, worry evident in his voice when he asks, “How will we clear out the infected?”

“Just follow my lead,” Keith says. “I have a plan.”

It ends up being the two of them leaned against of of the large windows, Keith banging on it with a fist. He lets up after a while and Shiro’s question is bit back when Keith lifts one finger, moving away from the window.

Confused, Shiro does the same.

He jumps when one infected bangs against it from the inside, followed by several more. Their fingers leave disgusting smears across the glass with every drag of their hands and their rotting faces push against it like they’re trying to break out.

“We’re going to let them out one by one,” Keith says, walking to the market doors. A couple of them stumble towards him, banging on the door. “It’ll be easier to pick them off that way.”

Shiro is given that task, opening the door and shutting it once one or two have slipped past. Keith lures them farther out with claps of his hand and kills them with his knife before they can lunge at him. They continue this until there’s four left in the store and that’s when Keith tells him to just leave it open.

The infected chase after them, raspy breaths and wet snarls leaving their rotting jaws, loose enough to expose their broken bones. Shiro gets the two on the right while Keith gets the remaining two. He kicks one to the ground so he can kill off one with a knife to the skull, rip it out, and shove it into the other.  

He wipes blood away from his cheek and pulls out his knife, using the corpse’s shirt to wipe the blood and brain matter off the blade. Keith bangs on the window again and, after about two minutes of waiting, they enter the building without the fear of more infected.

“We should probably split up,” Shiro says, shaking his head when he spies Keith’s frown. “It’ll be faster if we do.”

Keith’s frown disappears when he releases a sigh. “I don’t like it, but you’re right.” He places a hand on Shiro’s arm, and the touch sends heat through his body. He prays that his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “Be careful,” Keith continues, a hint of concern in his voice. “There could be some leftover infected crawling around.”

“Didn’t we get them all?”

“I mean that literally.”

They take opposite ends of the store. Shiro puts anything found on the list into his empty backpack as he walks through the aisles, taking his time when looking through the shelves. He’s glad that Keith gave him the push to come here because he gets nearly everything needed in what might be less than an hour, and hopes that Keith is close to completing his own.

Movement to the side catches his attention and he smiles.

“Done already?” Shiro asks, turning.

It’s not Keith, like he expected.

A long haired man is pointing a gun at him, pale skin streaked with dirt. He’s eyeing the box of granola bars that Shiro is holding with a looks of hunger. “If you don’t want to die,” he says, hands shaking. “You’ll give me all your stuff.”

Shiro’s blinks. “Excuse me?” he asks incredulously.

“Hand over your shit,” the man says as he holds out a hand, expectant. “And I’ll let you live.”

Heart leaping in his chest, Shiro places the box back onto the shelf and holds up both of his hands. “Hey, there’s no need for threats like that,” he says, hoping that he can talk his way out of this, or convince this stranger to leave him be. “There’s enough for both of us in this store. You’ll be able to find everything I have, since these aisles are well stocked. How about I help you?”

A shot is fired at the shelf next to him and Shiro tenses, suddenly afraid. This is a new situation for him, and if talking won’t work then Shiro doesn’t know what else to do. He’s never met people who were willing to kill other people.

“You think I’m joking? I will kill you!” Wild eyes grow calmer in the next second, an unnerving switch. The man gestures to his backpack. “But you can live, if you give me your bag. That seems like a fair deal, doesn’t it?”

Shiro doesn’t see any other way out of this, and he’s not eager to pull out his own gun. He tries to stay calm, letting his backpack slide off his shoulders before slowly setting it on the floor. “You can have it, alright?” he says with what he hopes is a friendly smile. “It’s all good.”

The gun is still pointed in Shiro’s direction even as he crouches down, searching through the pockets as if to reassure himself that everything is in place.

He spots Keith, who raises one finger to his lips before throwing himself at the man. They both sprawl across the floor and stay there as Keith wrestles the gun out of his hand. Keith is able to grab ahold of it after swiftly jamming his knife into the man’s thigh, then lets go so he can clutch at the wound and scream.

Keith stands up, strong grip on the gun as he points it at the thief. Shiro watches him cower and wonders how he can look so weak now, when he seemed so confident and frightening when threatening Shiro.

“You’re an idiot,” Keith says, voice dripping with contempt. “You think you’re so tough, waving a gun around, trying to scare people into giving you their things. You’re not. You’re pathetic and you’ll be the one who dies before everyone else.”

It doesn’t take long for it to click, the look on Keith’s face telling—anger curling his lips into a sneer, glaring with something akin to hatred. His stance shifts, hand tightening on the gun, and that’s when Shiro steps in.

“ _No._ ”

The surprise on Keith’s face would be amusing if he wasn’t so focused on the fact that Keith was pointing the gun straight at the thief’s forehead, who stares at Keith with obvious fear on his face; a survivor just like them.

“Keith,” he says, trying to keep his voice soothing as he slowly steps closer to him. “Put the gun down, you don’t have to kill him.”

“Like he wasn’t going to kill you.” Keith hisses out. “It’s a different world, Shiro. Not everyone is good like you.”

“That doesn’t mean he deserves to die.”

Keith’s face flickers from disbelief to something more neutral, seemingly emotionless as he gazes down at the man. “Today must be your lucky day,” he says blankly, arm falling to the side. “You get to live. Except you don’t get to keep the gun.”

The man starts to protest but one small movement of the weapon has him shutting up fast, still sitting on the floor. Shiro breathes out in relief over the fact that Keith listened to him, scooping his backpack up and shouldering it. They turn to leave but Keith stops and turns back around.

“Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all as he crouches down. “I almost forgot this.” Keith grips the handle of his knife and twists once, causing the man to cry out in pain before pulling it out harshly. “You should go before I change my mind.” Keith adds on, the warning definite in his voice.

He hurries to stand, stumbling in place while clutching his wound. He doesn’t look at them as he leaves, limping away and leaving droplets of blood. Shiro stares at the large symbol painted on the back of his shirt, a circle with triangle overlapping it, before looking to Keith.

Keith doesn’t take his gaze off of the fleeing man nor does he lower the gun. “Let’s go,” he says after a while, sliding his knife back into its sheath. “I found three crates filled with water bottles, we can take a shopping cart back to the car.”

They do exactly that.

The walk back is silent, full of a tension that leaves him feeling like he’s done something wrong. He knows he made the right decision, though, and wonders why Keith doesn’t seem to think so. He decides to ask when they’re back in the car, trunk loaded. The curiosity had been steadily building up, finally toppling over when the question leaves his lips.

“Have you killed people before?”

Shiro starts the car while he waits for Keith’s reply, which comes the moment they get back on the road.

“What do you think?”

He lets the pause linger, glancing over at him. Keith is gazing out the window, giving off the vibe that he doesn’t care much for the conversation they’re having. He presses on, though, with another question, “How many have you killed?”

“Never kept track, I was more focused on staying alive.” A few minutes pass before he turns his head and meets Shiro’s eyes, asking, “Have _you_ killed people before, Shiro?”

Looking back to the road, he swallows and feels the guilt rising up again. “Yes,” he admits. “They got bit and didn’t want to turn into one of those things, so they asked me to end it before they could.”

Keith says nothing.

When they get back to the community Keith helps him deliver the supplies. His face is impassive, like the earlier days, and he doesn’t look at Shiro once. He leaves when they’ve handed in their guns and Shiro watches him go.

“Did something happen?”

His gaze slides to Lance, in charge of the guns today, and simply stares at him. He doesn’t know what to say, honestly, and also doesn’t feel like explaining if he mentions it.

“No,” Shiro says instead. “Maybe he’s tired.”

Lance gives him a look like he doesn’t believe him. “Sure, man,” he says, and then he makes a confused noise, holding up the gun Keith had taken earlier. “Did you two find it out there? This isn’t part of our inventory.”

Shiro lies again. “We did.”

“That’s awesome! It’s always good to have extra guns.”

“I guess so.” he says, the image of Keith pointing it at that man with the intent to kill coming to mind.

☆ ☆ ☆

The days of no contact feel worse this time. Shiro thinks it might be because Keith’s presence in his life is already a constant. They’re at the point where he can honestly say that they’re friends. His worry that Keith might be angry with him drains away when Keith waves at him as they pass by one another.

It becomes missed opportunities and conflicting schedules rather than actual avoidance, and Shiro is thankful that they can at least see each other briefly.

At the end of the second week they’re finally able to talk, Shiro dropping by Keith’s house this time. Neither of them mention the incident on their supply run and the conversation goes from stilted to natural as minutes pass by, Keith finally relaxing against his counter.

“I’m going outside the wall today,” Keith announces idly, popping a piece of toast into his mouth. “Coran wanted to investigate something and didn’t want to go alone; said that I was the best choice to protect him.”

“Stay safe,” Shiro tells him, certain that the worry shows on his face. “I hear there’s been a lot of infected around the area lately.”

“That’s what we’re looking into, apparently they’ve been fixated on one side of the wall.” Keith lets out a sigh and Shiro slides another piece of toast his way, which he takes as he pushes himself off the counter. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I’ll even stop by your house so you can make sure that I am.”

The words sound teasing but Shiro can sense the truth in them, nodding gratefully. “Do you need the keys to the armory?”

“Is it even okay if I take them?”

“Being the second in command here has its perks.”

Keith accepts the keys when Shiro holds them out, giving him the same tiny smile that he received so many nights ago. His heart beats faster and he hopes that his blush isn’t showing, waving at Keith when they both depart from Keith’s house.

It’s Shiro’s day off so he decides to relax on the couch once he’s done cleaning around his house, reading one of the books he has lying around. There’s not much he can do for entertainment, after all.

Right when he’s flipped to the prologue there’s the sound of breaking glass outside, followed by a resounding _boom_ that’s loud enough to make him cringe. He doesn’t move a muscle, curled in on himself as he waits for more. No other sound follows after, so he sets the book aside and goes to investigate by looking out the window.

The sight is one he’ll never forget.

Shiro stares in horror at the fire that consumes a house farther down the street, unable to move an inch even as it gets stronger. He flinches away from his window when the one next to it suddenly burst into flames, engulfing the building within seconds.

Even from his own home he can feel the heat radiating from it, burning hot around his skin. The screams start not a second later, filling the air and telling him that the occupants inside are burning alive. He can’t even move, not even when the wailing is abruptly cut off and he’s left with only the crackling sound of the flames.

He doesn’t know what to do.

Shiro stands there and feels like a fool as he watches the two houses burn, unable to move because he’s never even thought of a situation like this. All he can do is watch when they eventually collapse in on themselves with a loud _crack,_ and then it dawns on him just who those homes belonged to.

Gwen, Olivia, and the pregnant woman who rarely went out—they’re _dead._

_How could this happen? Was it a simple household fire?_

Movement catches his attention. He focuses back on the streets and it takes a couple of blinks, even a brief rub at his eyes, for the image to come through, but now he can see what it is. People are running out of their homes in the direction of the front gates.

 _No,_ Shiro thinks as he squints, catching sight of other figures following after them. _They’re running from infected._

But some stand too tall to be the dead, pace not as uneven or jerky. They’re striding after the people rather than chasing and it’s only when a gunshot pierces the air does the realization hits him, watching a body collapse to the ground without a sound.

( _“It’s a different world, Shiro. Not everyone is good like you.”_ )

There are _other_ people in the community, attacking the ones that live within it.

_Oh God._

_I need to do something._

Shiro rushes to the door, hands slipping on the doorknob a couple of times from how hard they’re shaking but manages to turn it in the end. He takes a deep breath before he swings the door open, ready to head outside.

Only to come face to face with a gun.

Shiro freezes in place, eyes sliding away from it to take in the man holding it. He says nothing, grinning as his finger starts to squeeze the trigger.

With it pointed at his face, all he can think is _I’m going to die._

But then an arm wraps around the man’s neck and Shiro catches the glint of a knife before it sinks into flesh. Blood sprays as the blade slices through his throat and his arm falls to the side. It seems like he’s trying to shoot behind him and only manages to fire one shot, the gun dropping to the floor seconds after. His eyes are wide and frightened and Shiro finds that he can’t look away, even as he’s pushed to the floor.

The man that was going to kill him chokes on his own blood as he dies.

“Shiro.”

He looks up and is surprised to see Keith standing there.

Keith’s eyes are full of relief, voice a bit muffled by the red bandana that covers his mouth when he repeats Shiro’s name. There’s blood on his clothes and arms. Shiro wants to ask about it but no words come out when he tries.

Instead he just stands there, watching as Keith turns and bends down to stab the dead man in the head, wiping it off on the shirt before picking up the gun. Keith meets his gaze again and tugs the bandana down, reaching out to touch his arm.

“Come on,” he says quietly and easily pulls Shiro into his own home.

Once inside, Keith locks the door and closes the living room curtains, placing the gun on the coffee table. He’s wearing his backpack, machete is strapped to his side. Keith looks ready to go and Shiro is so _lost._

Shiro finally finds his voice and asks, “What’s happening?”

“There are _people_ attacking the community,” Keith explains plainly, sliding his knife back into its sheath. He lets out a breath and rubs a hand down his face, looking tired. He continues to speak, unwavering, “They broke down the front gate, tore down the guard tower by driving into it, and they set a couple of houses on fire to lure infected in. I think they’ve started tearing down the walls too. It’s all falling apart, Shiro, so we have to _leave._ ”

Shiro doesn’t hesitate, heading to his room to grab his own backpack. He also takes a spare change of clothes, meeting Keith in the kitchen. Together they fill it with a few water bottles and granola bars, some other small packets of snacks added in. Keith even puts some in his own backpack, pulling out a few boxes of ammo and handing them over to Shiro.

“I went into the armory and shoved a couple of pistols into my bag,” Keith says when Shiro looks at him. “We won’t be using them as we escape, though. I don’t want to draw attention to us.”

Us.

“What about everyone else?” Shiro asks as he wraps a shirt around the ammo, tucking it deep in his backpack to keep it hidden for now.

He catches Keith’s frown. “What about them?”

“We’re just going to leave them behind?”

“They’ll die anyways, most of them already have.”

“You don’t know that.”

Their eyes lock as the silence lingers. He doesn’t want to believe it but the solemn look on Keith’s face tells him that it must be true. “Yes,” he says quietly, as if to establish it. “I do.”

Shiro turns away, swallowing thickly and closing his eyes. For some reason the grief he thinks he should feel doesn’t settle in, so he’s left feeling wrong and out of place. He doesn’t know who’s dead and yet he already feels like he should have been the one to take their places.

He doesn’t voice these thoughts.

A hand touches his shoulder, light and fleeting, as Keith moves past him. Shiro leans forward and places his forearms on the counter, covering his face and taking a deep breath. It helps quell his mind for only a moment.

Then a new thought enters his head, and with it comes fear.

_What will we do once we’re out of here?_

The quiet is broken by Keith’s soft curse. When Shiro lifts his head he sees him standing by one of the living room windows, curtain falling back into place. “What’s wrong?”

“Infected, drawn here by the gunshot I assume.” Keith returns to the kitchen, a furrow in his brow. “They’re starting to huddle together outside so there’s no way we can leave right now, we’d be torn apart the moment we open that door.”

“Should we just wait it out?

“Too risky; if we give any indication that we’re in here then they’ll do anything to get in. Sneaking past them isn’t an option either since they’ll be able to smell us.”

There’s a pause after that and Keith’s face shifts from worried to thoughtful. A grimace replaces the look not a second later and then he’s walking to one of his kitchen windows. He unlocks it and puts one leg outside, seemingly ready to step out.

Shiro grabs his arm before he can. “Keith!?”

“Wait here,” Keith commands, arm slipping from Shiro’s grasp as he drops down. He walks to the backyard gate and lifts the latch, propping it open with a brick and disappearing from sight

He worries, of course, but does not go after him—trusting that Keith must know what he’s doing.

A few minutes pass, maybe, before Keith returns. He’s dragging a body behind him, an infected he probably just killed, and he lays it on the grass. He says nothing to Shiro, going back through the gate again and dragging in another body, placing it beside the first.

“Lay them out on your floor.” Keith instructs and starts to pull one towards the window.

Despite his confusion, Shiro goes through with it. He tugs both bodies in and does exactly as Keith said, helping Keith in afterwards.

“How many bedrooms are in this house?” Keith asks once the window is shut.

“Two.”

“That’ll be enough. Show me where the other one is and then go to yours. I want you to get all the sheets off of your bed. If there are any jackets you don’t plan on wearing then bring those as well.”

When he’s back in the kitchen, after doing all of that, Shiro is finally able to voice his question, “What do you plan on doing?”

“I’ll get to that soon. Right now I need you to cut holes in the sheets, big enough to fit our heads through.” Keith moves the knife block from one counter to the other, leaving it in front of Shiro. “I need latex gloves, do you have those?”

“There should be a box underneath the sink.”

Shiro does his job as carefully as he can with one of the kitchen knives while Keith peels off his fingerless gloves, tucking them away in his back pockets, to pull on the latex ones. He takes his machete out of its sheath only seconds later. His expression contains the smallest hint of disgust, but the determination shines stronger. Shiro sets the sheets to the side and watches, confused, as Keith straddles one of the bodies.

“Keith?”

He gets no reply, at first, because Keith seems to be more focused on cutting the body open to expose all the guts. “We’re going to walk through them all without getting eaten or torn apart.” Keith brings the machete down harshly, the splattering sound making Shiro flinch. “In order to do that we’ll have to smell like them.”

His stomach twists horribly, the faintest idea forming in his head. “How?”

Minutes pass where Keith continues with his task, moving onto the next body to do the same. He must be satisfied with his work eventually because he stops and takes a deep breath. “We have to cover ourselves with their guts.” Keith tells him and grabs a handful.

Shiro throws up in the sink.

“Just get it all out,” he can hear Keith say, and somehow his voice sounds so soothing. “The smell is even worse when you’re wearing it.”

He doesn’t say anything to rush Shiro, who stays hunched over the sink trying to breathe through the odor. Shiro rinses his mouth before turning to Keith, grabbing his own pair of gloves.

Keith nods at one of the jackets, the larger one, and Shiro puts it on. He stands with his arms extended as Keith steps closer to him, bloody hands held close to his body. “Just do it,” he murmurs when Keith hesitates, closing his eyes when Keith starts smearing it on. The sheet is pulled over his head and more guts are smeared all over it. Shiro holds his breath.

“I think that’s enough for you.”

He feels Keith step away from him and opens his eyes, watching as he puts on the remaining jacket. Shiro crouches down to grab some before Keith can say a word, working in silence. Keith tenses with every touch but allows it without protest.

They help each other with their backpacks, making sure they stay beneath their sheets. Keith keeps the machete at his side and picks up the gun off the coffee table, handing it to Shiro when they walk into the living room.

Finally, they’re ready to go.

Shiro’s stomach tightens with nerves yet he carries no doubt over what they’re about to do, trusting Keith with this, with _him._

Standing before the door, Keith’s hand hovers over the doorknob. “Hold on,” he says as he takes the glove off his right hand, reaching out for Shiro’s left one and doing the same. Keith meets his gaze, eyes unafraid, and places his hand in Shiro’s, gripping it tightly.

“Stay close to me.” Keith says quietly, to which Shiro nods.

The hold is comforting, warm, and when the door opens slowly he finds himself clutching it even tighter at the sight of all the infected stumbling around ahead of them. Keith squeezes back as if to reassure him and starts leading the way through the herd. The dead pay them no mind, heads lolling in their direction whenever they bump into one before going back to their shuffling.

They walk past the infected and burning houses. They don’t speak, nor do they let go of each other—leaving it all behind.

Shiro doesn’t look back.

☆ ☆ ☆

They hole up in a building that’s far enough away from the community, covering up all the doors and windows once they clear it out. The quiet remains, even as they take off their backpacks and gory clothes to set them aside; they sit on opposite sides of the room.

He wonders if everyone is dead, all his friends probably torn apart by zombies or killed by _people_ —and he’s still having trouble believing that, because _why_ would other survivors do that? Wouldn’t it be easier to work together?

Keith is staring down at the floor when he looks at him, elbows resting on his knees while his knife dangles from his fingers. Although his expression isn’t quite closed off, Shiro is having trouble deciphering the emotion.

A thought enters his head and he finally breaks the silence, wanting an answer for it, “Why did you come for me?”

He can see the way Keith stills, as if surprised by the question. “I couldn’t leave you.”

“You were able to leave everyone else.”

“They’re not—” Keith lifts his head and looks in his direction, eyes darting away whenever Shiro tries to meet them. His voice is quieter as he continues and Shiro struggles to hear him. “They’re not as important to me.”

Anger wells up in him, harsh and biting, but he wills it down and barely prevents it from bleeding into his words, tone cool as he thinks of all the friends he’ll never see again. “So you choose who you should save?” Shiro asks. “You play favorites?”

A scoff is what he gets in response, eyes narrowed in his direction. “I guess I do,” Keith says, the sarcasm obvious. Then it shifts to something more neutral, head tipped back against the wall. “It’s not like I had the time to decide on who to save. The infected started coming in and my first thought was to get you and get out of there.”

“You should have tried to save other people. They would have done the same.”

“Tell me, Shiro, what was I going to do with Marquez? Bring him out here with us while he had a bite on his shoulder? Only to kill him before he turns? Was I supposed to try and fight off the ten infected that were tearing Rita apart? I didn’t really think much on what I should do, my main goal was to see if you were still alive and get you out if you were.”

Shiro can’t find a decent response to that.

Keith releases a sigh that sounds tired. “You are important to me, yes,” he says. “I think if I had to choose between you and one other person I would end up picking you. Maybe in an ideal world I would try to save other people, or everyone, but… I’m only one person.”

And just like that the anger burns out, shame filling him when he realizes he was unwittingly trying to blame Keith for the death of his friends.

“Sorry,” he murmurs and chuckles when Keith’s eyes go wide. “It seems so easy to do when you think about it, but in reality it’s not.” He smiles weakly at him, pleased to get a tentative smile back. “Thank you, Keith, for saving me.”

He receives a nod in response before Keith looks away, and in the fading light Shiro swears he can see his blush.

“You should get some sleep,” Keith says, carefully balancing his knife on his outstretched leg. “I’ll keep watch.”

“I don’t think I can sleep,” Shiro admits. “I’ll stay up with you.”

They continue to sit there even when the light of the moon starts shining through the windows, the sounds of snarling coming from a distance. His sweeps his gaze across the room, lingering on every piece of framed art up on the wall until he’s memorized the colors and shapes.

Shiro does this so he won’t get lost in thought.

He ends up staring at Keith, unsurprisingly, and watches his brows furrow in concentration as he stares down. Shiro sees that he has something in his hands.

“What’s that?” Shiro asks curiously, taking the piece of fabric from Keith when it’s held out to him.

“Something I ripped off someone’s jacket when I was when I was trying to get away from them,” Keith answers casually, like he’s not at all worried about nearly dying, whereas Shiro feels his heart give a fearful lurch. “It might be some kind of symbol. It looks familiar to me.”

While only half of the symbol is displayed, Shiro can tell that it’s been carefully painted on, as if it were something of importance to the person wearing it. He understands what Keith means because Shiro also feels like he’s seen it somewhere before.

It clicks a second later.

“The thief at the store,” he says faintly, recalling the man easily. His stomach twists uncomfortably, guilt mixing with his sadness. “He had the same symbol. The people who attacked us must have been his group.”

The cloth is abruptly taken away from him, tossed to the side as Keith shifts closer.

“Don’t blame yourself when it’s not your fault.”

“How can you say that?” Shiro hisses out. “If I hadn’t stopped you from killing that bandit then our community would have been fine.” He doesn’t mean it, still against the idea of killing another person, but the thought is still there.

He spots the smallest hint of hesitation from Keith before their knees are pressed together. It comforts him in some way.

“It might be awful to hear right now but they would have found you out sooner or later.” Keith’s voice is quiet. “Them, or another group, or even a herd passing by. This is the way the world is now, Shiro. People are going to die and sometimes you can’t stop it.”

There’s a lump in his throat and he has to blink rapidly to prevent his tears from falling. Despite his best effort a few leak out and, judging by Keith’s hitched breath, it does not go unnoticed. “I thought we were safe,” he whispers, voice breaking on the last word. “I didn’t expect... this.”

Keith says nothing else and Shiro turns away, wiping at his eyes uselessly as he begins to cry. He’s thankful that Keith doesn’t acknowledge it.

Shiro weeps for the friends he’s lost and for the place he called home. He bites the inside of his cheek to try and contain any noise, releasing tiny hiccups instead. The grief hits him quite suddenly and forces him to hunch over, clutching at his chest like he can feel the emotion bubbling up beneath his hand. Dimly, he notes Keith moving next to him and then feels a warm hand begin to rub circles into his back.

It grounds him, even though it’s a simple touch.

When he finally stops he just feels _exhausted,_ eyes raw and nose stuffy. He sniffles and scrubs across his face, taking a few deep breaths.

“What do I do now?”

Keith’s response comes after a brief pause, soft and sad while containing a fond undertone. “You keep going, because those people would have wanted you to.”

☆ ☆ ☆

They stay there for a couple of days, combing through the building and finding other food and water, deciding to eat those rather than the preservables they have in their backpacks. There’s barely any conversation and Shiro feels more or less grateful, needing the time to himself to process the new situation.

On the third day, Keith wakes him up as the sun is rising.

“We’re leaving,” he announces, holding out Shiro’s backpack. “I think the area should be safe enough to move. If you see one infected loitering then leave them be, we don’t need to draw attention to ourselves.”

Shiro rubs at his jaw, grimacing at the rough scruff he feels. “You sure that’s a good idea?” he asks, pushing himself up to sling the bag over one shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Keith answers, only honesty in his answer. “There’s only two of us so it’ll be easier to walk from place to place.”

He looks over at him, surprised. “You want to stay with me?”

The flush that blossoms on Keith’s face is a pretty sight, and Shiro mourns the loss when Keith turns away. “I meant what I said the other day, Shiro.” Then, in a quieter tone. “I’ve never travelled with another person before.”

“Hey,” Shiro says. “I haven’t either.”

There’s no hand holding this time as they leave, but there is a new closeness between them, shown in the way Keith walks right beside him rather than at a small distance. The heat has already started to settle in but the fresh breeze brings the promise of a new season. It’s something to be excited about, he supposes.

Shiro breathes in deeply and smiles to himself.

They’ll be okay.


	2. Fall

Fall

 

The sun is barely visible through the clouds, the dense cover darkening every corner of the area. It’s dangerous, but he can use it to his advantage; weaving through the trees and darting past the infected that are stumbling around before they spot him.

He has to be quick; he doesn’t want too many to follow.

A boarded up house comes into view when he turns a corner and the sight of it makes him smile. Keith hops over the rope with cans dangling off it, heading towards the side of the building and knocking twice.

There’s only a second to wait before a piece of the wall slides to the side, showing off a small opening to get inside. He tosses both his bag and backpack in first, entering once he’s sure it’s been received and sliding the wooden panel back into place.

“You’re late.”

Keith huffs. “Your watch broke, how would you know?”

“Taking a guess since you have a working one.”

Glancing down at his own, he offers a shrug and drags the bag closer to start digging through it.  “Only by a few minutes.” he says idly, seeing Shiro’s raised eyebrow when he looks up. Keith sighs and holds out a can of peaches as a peace offering. “I’m sorry, okay? It got cloudy so I had to be extra careful.”

Shiro sits down beside him and accepts the peaches, opening the can and tilting it in his direction. Keith rolls his eyes but takes one anyways, knowing that Shiro won’t eat anything until he’s sure that Keith’s had something. He pops it into his mouth and the flavor bursts in his mouth, pure sweetness that leaves him grimacing—unused to it.

“How is it out there?” Shiro asks, drinking the juice from the can. He makes an obnoxious slurping noise and Keith kicks his foot in retaliation, kicking again when he hears Shiro’s muffled chuckle.

“Not too bad.”

“We have to leave soon, don’t we?”

Keith frowns, reaching out and snatching another peach slice as Shiro is lifting it to his mouth. “Better if we did,” he replies when he finishes it, licking the leftover juice off his fingers. “There were a few walking in this direction already. If they all get caught in our alarm then the sound will lure in more.”

He hears Shiro clear his throat and peeks over at him, only to see his head bent low as he focuses on eating.

“R-Right,” Shiro says. “Maybe we should stay the night and get some rest?” His brief waver steadies into an admonishing tone. “Especially _you,_ since you’re the one who’s always going out for food.”

“I’m good to go,” Keith informs him, not ready to admit that he is actually pretty tired.

Shiro gives him a look like he doesn’t quite believe him. “We haven’t slept much since we lost our home,” he says and his voice contains the slightest hint of sadness, which shifts to worry as he gazes at Keith. “We’ve been on the move since then, unable to stay in one place for too long because of the infected. We need _some_ sleep, more than a couple of hours.”

Keith is about to disagree but Shiro cuts him off before he can get a word out, “The alarm will wake us up.”

He’s right. Of course he is.

“We should at least finish up breakfast,” Keith says, swiping the can from Shiro. While the taste is a bit more bearable now, he only takes three more, leaving the rest for Shiro. He gains another look at this but nothing is said about it.

“It’s past noon,” Shiro mutters as he leans closer to Keith, peering at his watch. “So this is lunch.”

“Fine, then let’s finish our lunch and sleep so we can get a move on.”

The bag of canned food is pushed closer to him and Keith sighs, picking out a can of tuna. They eat in silence and Keith keeps an ear out for their alarm. It doesn’t go off, thankfully, so Keith lets himself take it easy and drifts off to the sound of Shiro humming to himself.

☆ ☆ ☆

There’s a noise that he registers as he slowly wakes up, metal clanging against metal over and over again. He figures it might be his imagination and nuzzles against his makeshift pillow so he can drift off again. Keith only sits up when it gets louder, now knowing that it’s real, and rubs at his eyes as he looks out the window.

He curses.

Four infected are stuck on their barbed wire, their struggling movements causing the noise to increase. Normally they’d go out there and kill them but he can see the stumbling forms of other infected, drawn in by the sound.

He shakes Shiro awake and starts packing up their things, sliding the piece of wall to the side and getting out quickly. There’s barely any light, the clouds working against him yet again, but they thought ahead the other day and marked a path to leave.

Keith stays close to Shiro as the two of them walk at a fast pace, past all the trees with a strip of yellow painted on them. He keeps his machete in a tight grip as infected start turning to look at them, in case one decides to get too close.

“Oh no,” he hears Shiro say and stops alongside him, staring incredulously.

There are at least nine of them all crouched on the floor, tearing into an animal and shoving pieces of flesh into their mouths. The dead pay them no mind, so Keith grabs Shiro’s arms and pulls him away from the infected in a different direction, the two of them stumbling over roots as they continue in a run.

No point in fighting when there are too many.

He sees none around them when they finally meet the road. Keith slows his breathing down by taking deep, even breaths. Shiro is hunched over with his hands on his knees, doing the same.

“We have to keep going,” Keith says once his heart is no longer racing, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Normally I’d be up for going back and following our original plan but they were eating, meaning that there’s a high chance they’ll still be hungry.”

“Then should we keep walking down this road?” Shiro still sounds out of breath. “Maybe we’ll find a house along the way.”

“Or a car,” Keith reaches into his bag and pulls out a water bottle, twisting the cap off and taking a swig before handing it over to Shiro. “Anything that’ll give us shelter for the night.”

The wind makes it colder than it actually is and he shivers in his thin jacket. It almost makes him miss the summer, where the nights were always a fresh change compared to the day. The only good thing about the cold is that it seems to slow down all the infected—an inference made based on the fact that there are less of them in the streets as the temperature continues to drop.

It doesn’t make them any less dangerous, though, so Keith is sure to never let his guard down.

Spending all his time with Shiro hasn’t changed that.

He’s allowed himself to open up more, has let Shiro in a bit and welcomed whatever Shiro gave him in return. It’s such a huge step for him, a personal victory with only him celebrating, and he still doesn’t know if it’s a good or bad thing.

 _We’re still alive._ Keith thinks, glancing all around them and only looking ahead when he’s sure that nothing will pop out from the trees. _So it’s probably a good thing._

They have yet to encounter any other survivors and Keith is grateful. He hasn’t needed to kill other survivors in front of Shiro beforehand, having lost their extra weapons early on.

(His backpack was caught on a fence as they were trying to evade a large group of infected. Keith had been forced to leave it behind and hoped that whatever supplies they had left could be stretched out to last longer.

They didn’t.)

He recalls Shiro’s expression when he nearly killed that bandit, on their first supply run together, and the way Shiro sounded so sure of himself when he said the man didn’t deserve to die. Sparing the man wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart, because Keith would have done it had he been alone. No, he did it for _Shiro,_ despite the fact that the bandit would have killed the two of them without a second thought.

Will he still feel that way if they do come across others? Will he understand, now, that it’s what they have to do if it becomes the only option?

Shiro’s voice cuts through his thoughts, inquisitive yet casual like he’ll be fine with Keith not answering, which is something he’s actually said before.

“What did you do before all of this?”

Keith answers after a moment’s pause, lips ticking up at the memories, “Worked in an animal shelter, started as a volunteer and then it became my job.”

“That’s pretty cool!” Keith almost laughs at how genuinely excited Shiro sounds. “Did you ever get any animals that _weren’t_ cats or dogs?”

“We once got a bear cub,” he says after a bit of thinking, smiling at the shocked expression Shiro wears. “The funniest part about it was that the owners kept insisting it was a dog, even claiming that they owned it.”

“Did they have any proof?”

“Of course not! They left when we called someone to come take the cub. It’s still funny to think about.”

“I can see why.” Shiro grips the straps to his backpack, head tilted back as he looks at the sky. Keith keeps his gaze on him, waiting. “I didn’t work because the school I wanted to go to was going to become my life. I would have stayed there and went up to the stars once I was ready.”

“Sounds pretty perfect,” Keith says, imagining it. He probably would have liked doing something like that as well, once upon a time, but he still feels content with how he lived his life. “Weird how none of that matters now.”

“No student debt,” Shiro jokes.

“We’re living the dream,” Keith deadpans.

They come across a building eventually, a gloomy looking gas station with ‘OUT OF ORDER’ signs taped to every pump. Keith shares a glance with Shiro and waits for his nod before leading the way into the tiny store. It’ll be their shelter for the night.

Once inside, after killing the single infected that had been trapped by a fallen shelf. Keith tries the light switch and is surprised to see the lights flicker on, feeling a tad bit thankful because it helps his search for anything to drink; he doesn’t want to use up their own supply.

Keith actually finds a few bottles of water and rolls them over to Shiro, who’s sitting with his back against one of the freezer doors with a pile of chips and granola bars next to him.

“We should eat this instead of our canned foods,” Keith recommends, sitting down next to him and reaching across him to grab a couple of bags. “That way they can be saved for when we really need to eat.”

“You can have the chips,” Shiro replies with a grimace, unwrapping one of the granola bars and taking a bite. “I’ll stick with these.”

He pops one bag open and looks inside, sighing at how broken up they were. Pouring some into his hand, he eats it and ends up frowning at how stale they are. “At least it’ll somewhat fill me up,” Keith mutters to himself, tipping the bag to pour more into his mouth.

“This makes me miss all the things I hated to eat,” Shiro says with a sigh and Keith looks over at him, nearly laughing at the look of disgust he wears as he holds up his granola bar. “All those meals I refused to eat because the food I hated was touching the one I liked… I regret doing that.”

“I understand,” Keith says sympathetically, reaching out and patting his thigh. He laughs this time when Shiro attempts to smack him with his snack. “No, I really do! I’ve been craving something with fresh vegetables.”

“You hate vegetables?”

“Used to, only because they were always forced on me. I resented that a lot but at this point I’d do _anything_ to have a salad.” Keith’s mouth waters at the thought and he has to take a few sips of water to quell the reaction.

“Pineapple pizza for me,” Shiro says. “Tried it once and it was _awful,_ I hated it, but I would absolutely stuff a slice into my mouth right now if it was fresh from the oven.”

“Disgusting,” he tells Shiro, knocking the granola bar out of his hand and replacing it with his unfinished bag of chips. Despite his earlier declaration, Shiro digs into them with gusto, expression a lot more pleased. “I would too.”

He decides to go looking for more snacks so they can have some variety, dropping down to the floor and reaching beneath the shelves only to come out with wrappers and empty bottles. Disappointing, of course, but what else did he expect?

Something flickers at the corner of his eye, beyond the gas station to where the trees are. When Keith squints he notices that whatever it is seems to be coming closer, and that there is a larger number of it.

His eyes go wide and he turns off the lights, rushing back to Shiro.

“We have to leave,” Keith says at his questioning look as he’s stuffing the remaining bags of chips and water bottles into their food bag, shoving Shiro’s backpack into his arms once he’s done. “There’s a huge group of infected coming this way so we have to move _now_ if we want to live.”

Shiro doesn’t question him, shouldering his bag when he stands.

There’s an employee exit that they head to and when Keith turns the knob, he discovers that he can’t push it open. Shiro makes an attempt on his own, and then another by pushing it with him, but neither work.

“Stay here.”

Keith looks at Shiro, ignoring the dread that fills his stomach, and frowns. “What do you plan on doing?”

“Something must be blocking it, right?” Shiro shrugs. “I’ll go out there and move it out of the way, then knock so you can open the door.”

“I can do it,” Keith says briskly, gripping the straps of his backpack. “I’m faster than you.”

“If it’s too heavy then you won’t be able to move it.”

He does have a point and they’re running low on time so Keith nods, biting the inside of his cheek so he won’t say anything else to stop him and turning his gaze to the door when Shiro leaves him. He rests a hand on the knob, feeling all jittery as he waits.

It only takes a moment or two for him to hear footsteps outside the door, followed by the sound of struggled breaths coming from someone. There’s a huge crash and then a knock on the door and Keith rushes to open it, letting it bang against the wall so he can scan Shiro for any kind of injuries.

“I’m fine,” Shiro tells him, looking amused. It doesn’t stay for long, fading into a more serious expression not a second later as he grabs Keith’s wrist, hold gentle. “They’ve gotten closer, let’s go.”

The only other path besides the way they came is straight ahead, a tall, metal fence being their only obstacle. He thinks about suggesting they make a break for it before the infected arrive when that choice is thrown at the window, seeing some shuffle their way into the area they’re in. Keith doesn’t spare them a glance, grasping Shiro’s hand in his and pulling him towards the fence.

“It’ll hold them back for a while,” Keith tosses his backpack over and waits for Shiro to do the same, only climbing when Shiro starts to. “That doesn’t mean we get to relax, we still have to run.”

Something tugs on his leg.

A rotting hand is wrapped around his boot, pulling on it desperately as it tries to drag him down. There are a few infected surrounding the one that’s holding onto him, also reaching out, and more are on their way. Keith looks over when he hears Shiro land safely on his feet, catching the look of horror on his face.

A surprised noise escapes when he actually slips, catching himself just in time. Keith grits his teeth and tries to kick himself free, managing to do so after a few tries. He doesn’t get very far up, because his other foot is grabbed and he holds on tight to the fence when the hand tugs hard.

His boot is let go almost immediately, the infected slumping against the fence and causing a few to fall from the unbalanced weight. Keith forces himself to look away and continues to climb, safely making it to the top of the fence and dropping to the ground on the other side.

Except he doesn’t touch down as well as Shiro did, collapsing beside his backpack when his right ankle starts throbbing.

“Can you walk?” Shiro asks.

“I think so,” Keith accepts the hand that Shiro holds out to him, trying to take a step and almost falling down again. “I take it back, I can’t.”

“Then you better hold on.”

Keith blinks. “What?”

Shiro picks up his own backpack and their food bag, one on each shoulder. Keith takes his when it’s held out to him and simply holds it in his arms, confused.

He receives no warning as Shiro wraps one arm around his back while the other goes beneath his knees, squeaking in surprise when he’s scooped up and held close to Shiro’s chest. Keith almost topples out of his hold in bewilderment, quickly wrapping his arms around Shiro’s shoulders when they start moving. The fence behind them strains against the weight of so many bodies, an image that grows smaller and smaller as Shiro walks at a fast pace.

“Go right.” Keith tells him when they’re far enough away, clinging to him when Shiro does so.

There are no other obstacles, surprisingly no infected in their way, so Shiro eventually slows to a slow stride as they enter a tiny neighborhood. Keith points to one of the houses, the only one that has open doors and windows, and Shiro takes him over there.

He’s carefully set down on the ground while Shiro goes inside to check the place, pushing himself up and testing his ankle. He only manages a step before he falls against Shiro, who had just returned, grumbling even as he’s sat down on one of the couches.

“I could have gotten in on my own.”

The only response he gets is a sigh.

Keith watches as Shiro pushes one of the cabinets in front of the door, staring as he closes all the windows and curtains as well. He gestures to the other couch once Shiro is finished, puzzled when the older man heads into the kitchen instead.

He returns with a first aid kit in hand, crouching down in front of Keith.

Oh. Right.

“Let me see it,” Shiro says.

Trying not to hiss, Keith manages to take off his boot and sock. He extends his right foot delicately, tensing at Shiro’s touch and only relaxing when he registers how gentle it is.

“You’ll be fine,” Shiro says confidently, thumb stroking his skin. He nearly shudders at the sensation and barely manages to rein it in. “We don’t have ice but if you keep it elevated and continue to rest then it might get better in a few days.”

“Does that mean you’re going to take care of me?” Keith asks teasingly, wincing when Shiro grips just above his hurt ankle.

“I already do.”

Shiro starts wrapping it up slowly, completely focused on his task. Keith is thankful that he is because his cheeks grow hot without warning and he knows that he must be sporting a blush. He brings a hand up to rub at his cheek like he can scrub it away, feeling the heat spread to his ears at Shiro warm smile when finished. He even puts Keith’s sock back on before getting up to sit down on the other couch.

There’s a large television up on the wall and his head lolls towards it, reflection staring back at him. “I’d kill for a shitty TV show,” Keith says, eyes falling on the numerous movie cases that rest in a cabinet beneath it. “Or a movie, I’m not too picky.”

“Maybe there’s a working laptop in this place.” Shiro gets back up. “I’ll go look.”

☆ ☆ ☆

To Keith’s surprise, Shiro does find a laptop. When he turns it on they discover that is has no password either, and it’s fully charged.

They decide to watch a movie every other night to help pass the time as Keith’s ankle recovers. Shiro places the laptop on the coffee table and keeps the brightness low so the battery won’t drain away. He also seats himself on the floor in front of Keith, waving away his concerns that it might be uncomfortable.

Sometimes they’ll talk during the movie, if it’s one they’ve both seen, repeating the lines mockingly and making fun of the characters.

Their food supply was already low, mostly snacks to keep them going, so Shiro is the one who goes out searching for more. He returns with more canned foods, water bottles, and the occasional candy bar that they rock, paper, scissors for.

(Keith is the victor more often than not.)

One of the best things he returned with was a large container of chocolate pudding, still good and quickly scarfed down by the two of them. Shiro had been reluctant to eat it at first but Keith told him that they didn’t know when it would go bad so they might as well enjoy it before that happened.

He thinks Shiro only gave in so Keith wouldn’t eat it all.

Eleven days pass, only known because he’s carved marks into the coffee table using his knife to help him keep track, until he’s finally able to walk without Shiro’s help and pain free. It makes him feel both excited and relieved, having felt extremely twitchy over the fact that they’ve been staying in the same place for so long.

Keith also nearly sprains his ankle again, almost tripping as he makes his way around the house.

“Don’t hurt yourself in your excitement.”

He accepts the hand Shiro holds out, huffing when he catches sight of the grin on his face. Keith turns his foot and only feels the faintest twinge of pain. “I’m just so glad that we can leave now,” he remarks happily.

Shiro frowns. “I think we should leave tomorrow.” he says, grabbing one of the disc cases they’ve scattered across the floor and giving it a shake when he holds it up. “One last movie before we go?”

His tone is so hopeful and the look he wears on his face can only be described as _puppy-dog eyes_ , a familiar one after spending all his time with Shiro and one he could never deny. There was one time he did and Shiro had looked so _sad_ but that wasn’t what made him change his mind at the time—he simply liked seeing Shiro in high spirits more than anything.

Moments of happiness were rare after their community fell, and he’s observed that it’s hardest for Shiro.

“Alright,” Keith grumbles and is rewarded with a small cheer from Shiro, turning his head away so his smile won’t be seen. “We get one each, how about that instead?”

“Sounds good to me!”

He still wants to go comb through the other houses for supplies, wanting to be extra prepared for when they finally leave, and Shiro agrees when Keith makes this suggestion. The buildings are a bit scarce and he discovers that Shiro had used this strategy whenever he went out.

Keith finds a few tins of tuna and packets of peanuts, shoving them into his bag and going back to his search. He does discover something infinitely better than food (by a smidge) and it happens to be a working shower, one that Keith takes advantage of instantly.

The freezing cold water is something he fights through, feeling like all his troubles have been washed away along with the dirt and grime that covered his body. There’s an unopened bar of soap in there and he scrubs his body all over, focusing on certain areas and feeling like a new person when he steps out.

His old boyshorts get stuffed into one of the outer pockets of his backpack, to throw away later, and he finds his cleaner ones at the bottom on the inside. Keith pulls on his old clothes because that’s all he has but he doesn’t really mind.

He’s clean, that’s all that matters.

After Shiro’s shower they return to the house they were originally in, settling down on the floor and snacking on the bagged popcorn that Shiro found. Once they’ve finished watching their movies ( _Star Trek_ for Shiro and _Indiana Jones_ for Keith) they settle down on the floor with all the pillows and sheets they could find, ready for sleep.

Except Shiro is very still beside him, breathing slow but not in the way that tells him he’s asleep.

Keith rolls onto his side to look at him, puzzled over his intense expression as he gazes back at Keith. “Is something wrong?” he asks cautiously.

Shiro says nothing and keeps on staring at him, the strange emotion disappearing and replaced by the calm one he’s used to seeing on nights like this; tinged with relief as he whispers, “I’m just really glad you’re okay.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

So, instead of replying, he reaches out to brush Shiro’s tuft away. Keith ends up doing it a few more times, amazed at how soft his hair is. Keith does not say this to Shiro either, gently rubbing a few strands between two fingers before letting go.

(Why did he do that?)

Keith smiles at the stunned expression on Shiro’s face, wondering why his action caused such a reaction, and finally speaks. He leans in closer when he says it, a whisper only meant for both of them.

“Goodnight, Shiro.”

“Takashi.”

He’s confused. “What?”

Even in the darkness he can see the flush on Shiro’s face. “You can call me Takashi if you like. It’s, uh, my first name. But only if you want to! I’m still okay with being called Shiro.”

It might not be a big deal to other people yet Keith feels like it is, another branch of trust coming from Shiro.

_Takashi._

Keith’s smile returns. “Goodnight, Takashi.”

He says it softly, testing the name on his tongue, and decides that he likes it. He likes the sound of it and also likes the way it feels when it leaves his lips. However, it seems far too intimate to say in any normal setting so Keith tells himself to only say it when it feels right.

Which is going to be difficult when he already wants to say it all the time.

Shiro’s face lights up and it’s the last thing he sees before closing his eyes, brighter than anything he’s ever seen and causing his own elation to burst in his chest. He made Shiro look like that, simply over saying his name.

“Sleep well, Keith.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Being on the road is always exhausting no matter how long they’ve been at it.

It’s the kind that settles into his bones, making him feel as if he’s being dragged down by the weight of it. A couple of hours of sleep isn’t enough for him because he always sits up at the smallest sound, ready to fight off infected. Even the knowledge that Shiro will protect him doesn’t help.

Keith deals with it.

He’s been doing so long before he met Shiro.

They talk more often than not, describing things they’ve seen or done and even playing some games as they move along. Keith has lost count of how many times they’ve played I spy.

It’s a nice reminder that he’ll never be alone, as long as they stay together.

(Loneliness seems like a distant memory, unreal and unexisting as if made up by a child, while the hours trickle on by with Shiro. It was an emptiness that carved its way into his very being, one that became a part of him only because he allowed it, slowly being filled and repaired thanks to Shiro’s presence.)

Houses start to become a luxury as they continue onward, so they mostly settle down in empty stores and broken down vans. Food is something that they eat in small portions, wanting to make it last as long as they can. Keith and Shiro have argued a few times over who should eat more that day and it almost always ends with them grudgingly agreeing to save it for later

The hunger only adds to his weariness.

One day they find a motel along the road, four infected roaming the small parking lot. Keith and Shiro pick them off one by one and look through the rooms with open doors.

He chooses the one that has two beds and knocks on the door, waiting for three minutes before finally entering. It’s not the best place he’s temporarily lived in but it’s certainly not the worst, so he collapses on the bed closest to the door after Shiro helps him push a drawer in front of it.

When he closes his eyes, hoping to sleep off his exhaustion, he discovers that he can’t fall asleep.

He can hear Shiro tossing and turning and guesses that he isn’t able to either.

After a moment, he hears a sigh from Shiro. It’s one that tells Keith that he’s _bored_ and plans to find a way to entertain himself, and he’s well acquainted with it.

“Have you ever eaten something you never expected to eat?”

Yup.

“You mean now, right?” Keith hears his noise of confirmation and thinks, eyes fixed on the stain that’s spread across the ceiling. It’s weirdly shaped but Keith can’t put a name to it “Do you really want to know?”

“Oh no,” Shiro says. “Was it something gross?”

“Seemed like it at the time but I was hungry enough to not give a damn.” Turning over onto his side so he can have full view of Shiro’s reaction, Keith’s smile stays when he says, “Raccoon.”

Shiro, also on his side, immediately looks disgusted. “Really!?”

Keith laughs. “Yeah! It honestly didn’t taste as bad as I thought it would.” He can feel his smile grow dim as he thinks back on it, remembering how desperate he felt for any piece of food. When he managed to capture and kill the raccoon he wasted no time in cooking it up, scarfing it down and thinking it was one of the best things he ever had.

“Being hungry makes anything taste good, really.” Keith adds quietly.

“So... this isn’t new to you.”

“Nope.” Keith sighs and sits up, gripping the edge of the bed while he looks at Shiro. “We’re lucky, though, because we at least have some food to keep us going.” He pauses. “Even if it does happen to be things we pilfered from abandoned houses and stores.”

Shiro hums and asks, “Do you think we should check the other rooms here?”

“Why?”

“There might be some snacks lying around.”

Keith considers this. “It’s a good idea,” he says with a nod. “We can try it tomorrow and then leave in a couple of days.”

He receives another hum in response before it falls silent.

Keith looks around the room, taking in the cracked walls and the burn marks on the carpet. There’s a dirty mirror on the door that leads to the bathroom and he has to squint to make out his reflection. He starts running fingers through his hair, separating the knots until they’re all gone.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, actually.”

His attention falls on Shiro and he watches as he also sits up, copying Keith’s position on the bed. Keith drops his hands and they stare at each other several long minutes, broken only when Keith clears his throat.

“Right, sorry.” Shiro’s cheeks turn a bit pink, probably embarrassed that he didn’t speak right away. “What’s our plan?”

Keith frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Where are we going?” Shiro continues. “All we’ve been doing is moving around constantly, unable to stay in one place. Why can’t we? If we’re careful enough then we can kill all the infected in one area or hide and wait for them to disappear.” Shiro lets out a sigh, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “Do you even have a destination in mind?”

“I don’t,” Keith answers truthfully. “I’m hoping we find a good enough place to settle down in. If we find another community then maybe they’ll be nice enough to let us live with them.” Keith feels himself grimace, not wanting to go through all that again. “Sorry I don’t have the right answer for you.”

“It’s fine,” Shiro replies quietly. “I just want to feel safe.”

“Nowhere is safe,” says Keith, just as quiet. “It all comes down to us.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Both day and night start to get colder.

Keith knows he won’t be able to last with how much he shivers constantly at every breeze. It doesn’t help that his clothes are worn out, a few tears here and there. He thinks it might be time to find newer ones, and the opportunity arrives when he discovers a clothing store in the small town they’re cutting through.

“Clothes shopping?” Shiro asks after Keith changes direction and heads for the building, lips curling as amusement shines in his eyes.

“We needed to change sooner or later,” Keith answers when they stop in front of the store, eyes drifting to one of the windows. It has the words **ALL CLEAR** written on it in a dull yellow. “Lucky for us we don’t have to do much work.” He looks at the closed doors and frowns. “I take that back, it looks like we’ll have to force it open.”

Shiro sighs. “Automatic doors, of course.”

It takes more than a few minutes but they manage to pull it open, the doors staying open after that.

He does roll a few shopping carts in front of the opening, effectively blocking the entrance in case any infected get curious and try to wander in. There are only a few inside that crawl towards them with broken legs, only found when they start browsing the store. Keith kills them off quick, and then they move on.

After finding clothes that’ll most likely fit him, Keith drifts to a different section. He wants everything to be new.

Keith grabs a pair of underwear that's his size, pausing for only a moment before taking another item off the rack. He then heads towards the changing rooms, dropping all of his things down on a bench in one of the stalls and locking it behind him.

Peeling his dirty, ripped clothes off feels so much better than he thought. It’s like he's taken away these past few weeks of worry and fear. He wishes he could shower, though, because wet wipes can only do so much but at least he’s somewhat clean.

Keith doesn’t look at his reflection as he pulls on the sports bra, black shirt pulled on after. When he has his jeans on, a dark grey, he finally lets himself look into the mirror.

There’s no difference to him.

“At least it’s something new,” he mutters to himself, gathering up his old clothes and leaving the changing room. He nearly bumps into Shiro, who has his own pile in his arms.

“You good, now?” Shiro asks, and Keith feels _strange_ as he watches his eyes trail upward, but it must be his imagination because Shiro’s gaze is locked with his when he blinks. “Nothing colorful?”

“I’m emo, don’t you know?” Keith replies with an eye roll, lips twitching when Shiro laughs. “You’re not keeping your old clothes, right? I’m asking so I don’t throw mine away and look like an idiot when you don’t.”

“Hell no, I’m done with these.”

“Good.” He nods, looking around them and stepping closer to the trash can. Keith shoves them in there, dusting his hands off with immense satisfaction. “I didn’t want my backpack to smell like blood.”

“You already do anyways so what’s the difference?”

“Are we going to have a problem, Shiro?” Keith asks and turns to look at him, hands on his hips. “If you’re saying that I smell then I have some news for _you._ ”

Shiro’s grin can only be described as _cheeky._ “Is it the fact that I smell ten times better than you?”

Keith aims a kick in his direction, which Shiro easily moves away from. He sticks his tongue out just before he enters one of the stalls, a childish display that makes Keith shake his head fondly. He turns around, eyes scanning the area and finding what he was searching for almost instantly.

There’s one last thing he needs.

Lucky for him, the jacket section is a few feet away from the changing rooms. There isn’t much to choose from and he only finds four that he likes, narrowing it down to just one in the end.

“I’m probably going to die in the winter.” Keith comments, loud enough so Shiro can hear, and pulls a dark red jacket off of the rack. The inside of it is lined with faux fur, yet it doesn’t feel heavy nor does it make him look bulky. He rips the tags off and shrugs his backpack on again, scooping up the food bag that’s lighter than he’d like.

“Why do you say that?” Shiro asks while he’s moving closer to the wall.

“It’s going to be ten times colder.”

He leans against it and waits, listening to Shiro’s laugh. “Don’t be so dramatic, the most that’ll happen is us freezing our asses off. I mean that literally.”

“Oh no,” Keith deadpans. “Not my sweet ass.”

Shiro laughs again. He hears the sound of the door opening and looks up, eyes stuck on Shiro when he steps out.

The black jacket looks good on him, not too tight or loose or bulky and it also has a hood attached to it. He’s wearing a grey shirt and his jeans are a dark blue that look black at first glance, tight enough to show off his thighs. Shiro did keep his old boots, though, and when Keith points that out he gets a shrug in response.

“I shouldn’t get new ones when I can still use these.”

Keith agrees. He kept his own for that same reason.

They look through the rest of the store, Keith picking out a long sleeve as well as another pair of underwear. He does grab an extra sports bra when he’s sure that Shiro is farther away, stuffing it into his bag before meeting him at the front. Shiro takes the food bag from him and raises an eyebrow.

“Ready to go?”

Keith grips his backpack straps, staring across the parking lot before nodding. “We should stay in the area for the night,” he says as they move the carts, walking through the open doors. “It’s been quiet so far. Hopefully it stays that way.” Keith pauses. “A place on the corner of the street would be the best choice. It’ll make it easier to escape if we have to.”

“Then we better start looking.”

☆ ☆ ☆

The best they can find is an apartment.

It’s within a gated part of the neighborhood, the only building that’s mostly unscathed while the rest are crumpled and blackened. Keith eyes the military tank parked in the middle of the street and can guess what happened here.

“What was this place?” Shiro asks quietly when they enter the apartment. “There were other military trucks farther down the street, and I swear I saw bodies laid out on front lawns.”

There are infected in the building and Keith pulls out his machete to get rid of them quick, bringing the blade down onto their heads and kicking their bodies to the floor. “A safe zone,” he explains as they move on. “Formed by the military. They took over this neighborhood to keep them away from the disease but I guess they couldn’t escape it and killed everyone so it wouldn’t spread. Maybe the people fought back. Who knows?”

“You sound familiar with the idea.” Shiro says, in a tone so casual that Keith sees it as an opening to either dismiss it or continue. He chooses the middle ground.

“I lived in one before.” Keith says quietly, distracting himself with opening one of the doors on the first floor. The stench coming from inside forces him to close it and they keep walking.

Keith finds a habitable room on the third floor, gathering up all the cans inside and sitting beside Shiro as they thread some string through them all. Shiro hangs them up in the outside hallway while Keith searches the apartment for food, or anything fit for human consumption.

He stops by the window in the kitchen and his gaze is drawn to all the bodies piled on top of one another on the grass, badly burnt and unmoving. The sight of it brings back his own memories of a similar incident, people wanting to prevent the spread of the virus.

“Something wrong?”

Keith swiftly closes the curtains, covering up the view. “No,” he says and turns around to face Shiro, attention captured by the bag that he holds. “What’s that?”

“I found canned soup in the other apartment,” Shiro says, shaking it. The cans clatter together in a way that tells him they’re completely full. It makes his stomach rumble. “Looks like we’ll have a decent meal tonight.”

“Thank god,” Keith says in honest relief. “No more snacks.”

Lucky for them the kitchen has a gas stove, making it ten times easier for them to heat it up. Keith doesn’t even care that it’s vegetable soup, enjoying the warmth of it as it slides down his throat and falls into his stomach. It seeps into his bones and makes him feel extremely satisfied, for the first time in what feels like forever.

There are enough rooms for them to take one each, and sleep in an actual bed, but they choose to stay in the living room instead. The only light comes from a lantern that Shiro found on top of the fridge, dim so they won’t give any indication that they’re here.

As Keith sprawls across the few sheets they dragged into that room, he ponders his friendship with Shiro. The two of them have come a long way at this point and Keith still isn’t sure if he trusts the man. He does trust that Shiro has his back, but what about beyond that?

His trusts issues are something he holds close to his chest because he doesn’t want anyone to know just how much he struggles with it, how his life is still affected by his early losses. He lashes out to push people away so he won’t have to deal with them rejecting him, and that’s how he knows if they’re truly going to stay or not.

It feels as though being abandoned is a defining aspect in his life. With the way the world is now, it’s something that has happened more than he’d like. Sometimes there’s no helping it, he knows, and that the death of others should excuse feeling like he has been.

But Keith can’t help it.

He picks at a thread that’s jutting out from a pillow, staring at the dull colors of the wall as he lays there. Every so often he’ll look over at Shiro, who sits beside him with his knife in his lap. Shiro doesn’t push him to sleep this time so they have fallen into a comfortable silence.

The hum of the light is loud in his ears.

After he plucks the thread out, he shifts onto his side so he can see Shiro more clearly. He looks deep in thought, brows knit together as he stares down at the carpet. Keith traces over the scar across the bridge of his nose and wonders if he got it in the accident that took his arm, wonders if he has more spread out all over his body.

Keith shakes the thought away, cheeks warm for whatever reason.

It takes a while for him to work up the courage to speak, throat suddenly dry. “Shiro,” he starts before he can think about taking it back, hesitating when he has Shiro’s full attention. He doesn’t let his resolve doesn’t waver, licking his lips and asking, “Can I tell you something?”

Shiro looks curious, and maybe even a bit concerned. “Go for it,” he says.

Even from his position on the floor he can feel his hands shaking. It spreads to the rest of his body, his insides twisting from nerves. Keith still doesn’t let anything stop him, though, pushing through not because he feels like he should but because he _wants_ to tell Shiro this.

He trusts Shiro.

(Somehow, the realization isn’t surprising.)

“I’m transgender.” Keith finally says after some time has passed, Shiro waiting patiently like he always does. He doesn’t say anything else, leaving it at that as his hands clench around the pillow. He keeps his eyes on Shiro’s face, waiting for anything other than the quiet they’ve fallen into yet again.

Then, Shiro smiles at him.

“Okay,” he replies and Keith has to hold back his flinch when he reaches out towards him, holding his breath when he feels fingers brush along his cheek as they move a strand of hair away. “Thanks for telling me.”

His heart is racing, he can feel it pounding in his ears, and his lungs start to burn. Keith turns his face towards the pillow and closes his eyes so he can focus on his breathing. It takes a while for him to calm down, looking at Shiro once again when he’s finally okay enough to do so.

He then shoots Shiro a smile of his own, knows that while it might be a bit wobbly it still shows his gratitude.

“Yeah,” Keith murmurs, shifting closer to him. Shiro rests a hand on his shoulder, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on it.

Nothing else needs to be said.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Are we really going to sleep in an office?” Shiro asks incredulously.

After walking for about three days, taking breaks here and there, they reached a city. It’s not quite empty but it contains less infected than Keith expected. That doesn’t mean they weren’t careful, though. They still made their way around silently, discreetly killing any undead they came across before their presence could be alerted.

Now they’re in one of the tallest buildings here, walking up so many flights of stairs and killing off anything along the way as they explored the place.

The office they’re in has three bookshelves and a desk right in front of it, one door leading to the office next door and the other one leading into the hallway. It’s large enough to hold the two of them, and probably three more, but it’s small enough to become a trap.

He’ll take that risk. It’s not like the infected can climb up all those stairs.

“There’s a gallon of water, Shiro,” Keith argues as he fills up his water bottle, standing up and gulping down half of it. He closes his eyes after and basks in the freshness of it, smiling to himself. “Of course we’re gonna sleep here.” He glances at him. “Until all the water is gone, at least. Then we can check the other offices for more.”

“We still need food, Keith. We’re close to nothing.”

It’s completely true. Despite their best efforts, their small portions eventually added up and left them with only one can of mushroom soup, three bags of chips, and saltine crackers they found in a broken down diner. Keith decided to ditch the food bag and stuffed those into his own backpack, not wanting to carry around so much.

“There will probably be something on one of these floors,” Keith says thoughtfully. “I can’t imagine they’d have these offices without vending machines or _something,_ employees like to snack.” He catches Shiro’s unamused look and sighs. “We’ll stay here for a while and leave once we’ve gotten plenty of rest, how does that sound?”

“Better, I guess.”

“You _guess?_ ”

Shiro starts to fill up his own water bottle and Keith shakes his head, hiding his smile by taking another swig.

“Should we keep looking?” Keith asks, walking over to the bookshelf. He pulls a book out and flips through it, grimacing and putting it back when he understands nothing in it. “Maybe the drawers will have something useful.”

“Probably not. I don’t know what we’ll do with staplers and file cabinets.”

“Staple an infected to death,” Keith replies idly. “I imagine carrying the latter would be too much, even with your strength. You could probably throw it at a group and pray that you get some.”

“You’re thinking too much about this.” Shiro also takes the time to drink some water, finishing it up in only a few seconds and then refilling it. “Rest sounds like a better idea, honestly.”

Keith agrees privately, proving it by pushing the desk closer to the shelf so they have enough space to sleep together on the floor. He makes sure to close both doors, handing his water bottle over to Shiro so he can fill it up to the brim.

Once it’s tucked away in his backpack he lays down, head pillowed on it and waiting until Shiro is beside him before letting himself fall asleep.

☆ ☆ ☆

Voices wake him up.

Whoever is speaking doesn’t seem to care that they’re being loud, laughing and stomping around above them. Keith thinks it’s his imagination at first but after it continues for longer, it finally registers that there are other people in this building. He shakes Shiro awake, lacing up his boots and gathering his weapons and bag.

Shiro is only a second behind him, already alert and ready. Keith starts to pull him towards the door but as he pushes it open, the one leading to their floor from the stairs slams open. They both tumble back into the office, pressed up against the wall while the sound of footsteps get closer and closer.

He doesn’t dare close the door, not wanting to catch their attention.

“I don’t think they’ll hurt us, Keith.” Shiro whispers next to him and Keith almost rolls his eyes. “We should just go, if we leave them alone then maybe they’ll show us the same courtesy.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” Keith mutters back, flinching when a door closer to them opens. He eyes the other closed door in the room, the one that leads to the adjoining office, and tightens his grip on his knife. “If you have to then _run,_ don’t look back.”

The knob starts to turn.

Shiro grabs at his arm and that small break in concentration, where he looks back to glare at him, is enough for the one person that steps through to train her gun on them. A stranger wearing a black bulletproof vest over her plain t-shirt.

“Don’t move,” she orders in a low tone and Keith can see that she’s lining up her shot, aiming for Shiro’s forehead. “I don’t want to waste more bullets if you try to—”

Keith darts out and digs his nails into her thigh for a firmer grip, tugging on it and causing her to fall. She collapses with a curse and her gun falls away from her grasp, which he lunges for. Shiro inhales sharply from behind him as he points it back at her, firing one shot and watching blood splatter across the carpet when the bullet hits her head.

Another person, wearing the same type of vest, rushes in only seconds later and stops at the sight of his companion. His face twists with rage and his eyes fix on Keith, mouth open like he’s about to speak. Keith doesn’t let him get the chance to do so, aiming and shooting him in the head. The body collapses to the floor beside the first, both of their eyes wide even in death.

Without stopping to catch his breath, Keith starts digging through their pockets in hopes of finding extra ammo.

“You killed them…” He hears Shiro say quietly.

“I did,” Keith actually does find ammo, and another gun. He holds that one out to Shiro, who shakes his head. “You need one, Shiro.” Keith says firmly. “Something better than a knife, at least, in case we encounter more people.”

Shiro says nothing.

Keith sighs, sliding the gun towards him. Seconds tick by before Shiro finally takes it, not looking happy as he holds it in his hand.

“It was us or them, Shiro,” he says slowly, hoping to soothe the upset that Shiro wears on his face. “I killed them so they wouldn’t kill us, it’s that simple.”

“Then you’re no better than them.”

There’s a pause where they both stare at each other, Keith feeling stunned and Shiro with a slow-growing horrified expression. Hurt starts to blossom in his chest, making it tight, and he tries his hardest to suppress it.

He pushes himself up and keeps his newly acquired gun in hand as he steps towards the open door, not wanting to deal with the stifling silence.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

When he looks back he sees regret on Shiro’s face but it does nothing to soothe him. Not right now. “You did,” Keith says evenly, peeking outside the room. “It’s fine, let’s just focus on getting out of here.”

He walks out, knowing Shiro will follow.

☆ ☆ ☆

“I am sorry,” he hears Shiro say quietly as they’re down the hallway. They’ve searched through the rest of the offices and came up with packets of peanuts, which they snacked on pretty quick. “It’s hard for me to grasp the concept of killing someone. Seeing you do it so easily is so strange to me.”

Keith, already on the path to forgiving him, just sighs.

“You can’t let that hold you back,” he tells Shiro, pushing the door open and breathing out in relief at the sight of stairs. “If you were in my position and you hesitated because of that thinking then you would have been dead before you could say a word."

Shiro doesn’t respond to that.

Keith stops and turns so he can face him. “I’ve killed before and I’ll kill again, I’m sure of it, so if you want to go off on your own then I won’t stop you.” The idea actually pains him but Shiro’s comfort matters more, so he plasters on a smile. “I’d understand, actually.”

“No!”

He jumps at his sudden exclamation, blinking at the sheepish look Shiro gains afterwards.

“Sorry,” Shiro continues in a much softer tone. “I won’t leave you, not as a result of this and not ever. I’ll try to wrap my head around it, okay? It’s been proven to me that what you’re saying is right, so...” He shrugs. “I’ll try.”

There’s still a fragment of hurt within him, a reminder of Shiro’s words, but Keith doesn’t let that linger. He understands, because he used to be exactly like that in the beginning.

So, he nods and returns Shiro’s warm smile with one of his own.

As they walk down the stairs a door bursts open. Keith grabs Shiro’s arm to keep him still, shushing him when he tries to speak so he can listen to the voices that start to fill the air.

“They were dead, sir. Bullet to the head and they were missing their own guns.”

“That means there are others in this building with us.” Another person responds in a low voice, sounding sure of themselves. “Go to the others and tell them to be on the lookout for anyone that’s not us. Tell them to shoot on sight.”

“Yes, Sendak, sir!”

The door opens and closes again but the sound of heavy footsteps seems to grow louder. Keith whips his head around and hurries to the door closest to them, opening it and shoving Shiro through. He follows after him and keeps a strong hold on the handle so it shuts silently behind him, crouching against the wall afterwards.

Whoever is walking by stops in front of their door. From his position and through the door’s window, he can make out that they’re a large, buff person with no hair on their head. There are scars on their neck, jagged and harsh, but he doesn’t get a view of their face. They leave soon after and from where he sits he can hear them speak again, the same voice as the one called Sendak.

“Gather up anything you find in here, we’ll leave once we find the _rats_ that killed our own.”

He only relaxes when he hears the footsteps fade away, looking over at Shiro’s pale face and smiling weakly. “Things just got a lot harder for us,” Keith remarks, hoping that it isn’t completely true.

☆ ☆ ☆

They get separated.

While they were trying to get out of the building, still making their way down the stairs and often having to go through a floor when one section was blocked off, a door opened up behind them. Keith didn’t even hesitate, shoving Shiro down and ordering him to keep going before turning and killing them.

He doesn’t regret it, recalling the shoot on sight command they had been given.

Keith rushes down the stairs to chase after Shiro, calling out for him and opening up every door he passes in hopes of finding his friend. He does garner some attention along the way and, lucky for him, they’re either in pairs or alone; pistol traded for an assault rifle, the former tucked away in his bag.

The sound of gunshots reach his ear, further below him, so he follows the sound and prays that Shiro is safe. He keeps his stolen gun raised as he finally reaches the last floor, walking slowly and feeling dread when the shots cease.

_Please don’t be Shiro._

He winds up in the parking garage, eyeing the cars that are scattered across the lot. His grip tightens on the assault rifle as he heads in further, continuing to scan the area around him.

“Shiro?” Keith calls out.

“I don’t think so.”

Keith whirls around and starts to press down on the trigger, only for his gun to be knocked out of his hands. He tries to pull out his machete next but in the next second he's on the floor, face stinging and body numb from his fall. There's a chance to get his gun back since it's only a few feet away so he scrambles towards it, crying out in surprise when he's kicked to the side.

A heavy boot presses down on his back, keeping him in place.

“It must be you killing my men, right?” Sendak questions, a touch of anger in his voice. “I may have disliked them but that doesn’t give you the right to do that, limiting my numbers.”

The weight is off but then his arms are roughly pulled behind him as he’s brought up to his knees, a zip tie being placed around his wrists. He tests their hold and nope, too tight. Keith won't be getting out of it anytime soon.

“They were going to kill me first,” Keith retorts, glaring down at the ground. Sendak starts circling him, steps loud against the concrete. “Can’t blame a guy for wanting to live.”

“I suppose I can’t.”

Keith cries out in pain when a hand suddenly grabs a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up at the asshole doing so. He sees the scars first and then his gaze trails up to his face, looking at the eyepatch that doesn’t hide the long cut that goes down his face.

He hates the fact that his eyes water from the pain and regrets not taking up Shiro’s offer to cut it shorter. Keith had rejected it, only because they were closer to the change of the season and he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of too short hair.

At least Shiro isn't the one in his place.

“Just because you wanted to stay alive doesn’t mean you deserve to,” Sendak is saying, staring down at him with a not-so-nice grin. “It’ll be a pleasure to kill you and once I’ve done that I’ll find the other one.”

Rage rises up within him, paired with a touch of desperation. “Don’t touch him!” he spits out, trying to twist away from Sendak’s hold. The grip only grows stronger and he has to stay still because it just causes more pain. “I’ll kill you,” Keith tells Sendak, voice cold. “I swear I will.”

No noise leaves his lips when he’s backhanded for that.

“You won’t be able to since you’ll be dead.”

There’s a click and then the feel of cold metal against his forehead.

Running a tongue over his split lip, ignoring the sting of it, he laughs when he looks up. “Then he’ll kill you,” Keith tells him, unafraid. “He’ll kill you for killing me.”

A shot echoes through the garage. Keith barely has enough time to roll out of the way as Sendak’s body collapses. He squats just so he can get his hands beneath his ass, sitting back down and continuing the path past his feet until his tied hands are up front. After he does this he stands up and looks around.

Shiro stands a few feet away, staring at Sendak’s body with a gun in his hands.

Relief rushes through him, almost overwhelming.

“Shiro,” Keith says with a wide smile, not bothering to hide it. He lifts his hands up and gives them a shake. “Can you get me out of these?”

It takes a while for Shiro to respond, giving a slow nod before switching his gun for his knife. Keith holds his arms out while the zip tie is cut off, rubbing at his wrists. “Thanks,” he tells him and heads back over to Sendak’s body, grabbing his weapons and putting them back in their places.

“Keith.”

The way Shiro says his name makes him turn, spoken like a reverent prayer. Shiro approaches him unhurriedly and Keith fidgets beneath his intense stare, not moving when they’re only a few inches apart. He watches Shiro’s hand visibly shake when he lifts it, twitches when it’s placed against his cheek—warm and sure.

Fingers rest high against his skin, stroking over it lightly. It makes him shiver.

“Keith,” he repeats in the same tone, moving just slightly and tentatively brushing a thumb over his split lip. The touch causes a spark of pain but he doesn’t let it show, unable to tear his gaze away. “You’re okay,” Shiro whispers, like he can’t believe it. “You’re okay…”

Shiro continues with his motion even when he feels blood start to well up. Shiro doesn’t seem to mind but Keith does, swiping his tongue over his lips to try and lick it up. They both still when it grazes Shiro’s thumb and he stares at him with wide eyes before breaking away from the hold, cheeks burning.

“We should go,” he says once he’s sure his heart rate has dropped back to normal. He picks up the gun that had clattered away from Sendak’s grasp and doesn’t look at Shiro as he starts moving towards the exit.

When they leave the garage they enter a small alleyway. Keith picks the direction that leads to the street and spies a van farther down, jogging towards it and smiling to himself when he sees that it has a full tank. There are extra cans of gas inside the van and he wonders if this vehicle belonged to one of Sendak’s lackeys, since the keys are still in the ignition. He turns the car on and slides into the driver’s seat, waiting for Shiro to enter the passenger seat.

The two of them leave the city behind, no more words spoken.

☆ ☆ ☆

They drive until they come across a shack on the edge of a lake, not a single infected in sight. It smells musty and old but it’s large enough to fit the two of them with some space left over, so Keith decides that they’ll stay there until they’re both ready to leave.

Shiro doesn’t seem to mind, since he didn’t complain at all when Keith told him their new plan.

Keith sits across Shiro, back pressed against the small armchair. It reminds him of another time they were in positions like this, only a few months before. Except this time the silence seems to be much more solemn, matching the look on Shiro’s face.

He takes in Shiro’s slumped form and wants to do something to make it all better, if he can. That’s another thing he was never good at, comforting the people closest to him, but he always tries his best. Maybe this is what makes him speak without meaning to.

“I had to kill my family.”

Shiro’s head tilts in his direction, a gesture that lets Keith know that he’s listening. He stares at the floor as he continues, “It was a bad situation but I _had_ to do it, I couldn’t leave them behind when one was turned, the other was getting there, and the final one was suffering.”

Keith breathes out slowly, closing his eyes at the memory of it. He still carries his foster family in his heart and they gave him the strength to keep going, not wanting to waste the chance they gave him.

“I know I make it seem like killing people is an easy thing to do,” Keith says, quieter. “But it’s really not. Even though I’m the one who survives I still have to live with what I’ve done. That’s something that’ll never go away.”

Shiro doesn’t respond for a long while and Keith thinks that he might have fallen asleep, startled when his low voice fills the air.

“I think I get it now.”

He thinks he knows what he’s talking about but he still asks. “Get what?”

A sigh leaves Shiro before he slowly shifts closer to Keith, who doesn’t move a muscle. Shiro seems to take comfort in the brush of their shoulders, slumping against the wall with his head bent. Keith says nothing, waiting for Shiro to take the next step.

“I walked in right as he slapped you and I felt such anger that it surprised me.”

Keith reaches out and takes Shiro’s hand in his own, giving it a squeeze.

He gets a squeeze in return.  “I _wanted_ him to die when I saw him point the gun at you and that thought stayed with me when I pulled my own out.” Shiro says. “When I did kill him I wasn’t sad or afraid, I was relieved over the fact that he wouldn’t be able to touch you again.”

“Shiro,” Keith breathes out, feeling his chest tighten at his words. He doesn’t know why it affects him as much as it does and decides to ignore it for now, focusing on comforting him. “That doesn’t make you a bad person, okay? He would have killed me if you hadn’t killed him.”

“I know,” Shiro looks over at him, expression pained. “But what if I thought that he deserved to die after I killed him? Would that make me one?”

“No,” he denies, shaking his head. “You’re not a bad person.” Keith pauses and sighs, rubbing a thumb over Shiro’s knuckles. “Killing other people is bad, yeah, but you don’t enjoy it like others out there.” He thinks his next statement over and licks his lips, hoping the reaction isn’t too bad, “There have been people who tried to kill me because I was in the way.”

“Oh.”

When Shiro narrows his eyes Keith speaks quickly before he can say anything else.

“Obviously they didn’t, since I’m still here.” Keith meets his gaze this time and doesn’t look away, not even for a second. “We live in a different world now, one that has no more rules. That doesn’t make it okay, I know, and you might never feel okay with what you’ve done but you do what you have to do to survive. That’s the way it is, now.” He speaks in a much softer tone, “You’re a good man, Takashi. I’ve known that for a while. This won’t change how I see you.”

There’s no reply, at first, and then the hand holding his own moves until their fingers are threaded together, an action that brings heat to his cheeks.

“Living with it, right?” Shiro offers a small quirk of his lips, eyes warm. “I did it to protect you and that’s something I can accept.”

“Really?” Keith asks, surprised. It’s a wonder why Shiro would suddenly think like this, considering the conversation they just had.

( _I’ll try,_ Shiro said previously when they were in that office building. Maybe this is him doing so.)

He gets a nod in response.

“We should get some sleep,” Shiro says, hand slipping from Keith’s grasp. His own hovers in the same spot before he clenches it into a fist, bringing it back to his side so he won’t try to reach out for it.

 _Don’t be_ too _needy for affection, Keith._

“I should stay awake,” Keith protests. “There could be—”

“Keith.”

His gaze is drawn to Shiro again, who’s already lying down on the floor with his head pillowed on his jacket.

“Sleep,” Shiro says, patting the space beside him. “It’ll be fine.”

Keith hesitates, unsure if he should or not, and Shiro doesn’t even push him to do it. He’s actually looking up at Keith with a small smile, waiting for whatever decision he’ll make. Slowly, Keith lies down and uses his backpack so he won’t get cold, resting his head on it while he looks at him.

Shiro is the first to fall asleep, wearing the tiniest smile and looking so relaxed. It doesn’t take long for Keith to follow, scooting closer to Shiro before he allows himself to fall asleep.

☆ ☆ ☆

The next morning is spent searching the shack for food, Keith feeling disappointed when he comes up with nothing. Shiro’s small, happy exclamation has him looking over, raising an eyebrow at the fishing gear he’s holding in his hands. Then, he remembers the lake outside and prays that there are fish.

There are.

Keith sits on the dock beside Shiro and lets the man talk him through how to reel a fish in should he get a bite. Shiro’s flesh hand is warm as he starts guiding Keith through the process, bionic hand already on its way to feeling the same. He tries his best to pay attention, he really does, but Shiro’s very distracting—lips close to his ear, voice low, and eyes lighting up with pride when Keith gets it right.

It’s nice.

They both catch one fish each and make a fire pit in front of the house while the sun is still out, taking the time to gut and clean it using the lake water before cooking it. He doesn’t finish his, feeling full when he reaches the halfway point, but he still feels very satisfied with his meal.

Afterwards, they simply sit in a companionable silence and head back into the shack when the sun starts setting.

This continues for the next few days, making Keith think that Shiro is only doing it for some normality in his life. There’s been no more talk of what happened with Sendak and his group, only Shiro teaching Keith all the knots used in fishing and the occasional dip into the lake to at least feel somewhat clean.

It’s oddly relaxing.

Keith still keeps an eye out for infected, even though he has yet to see any. It makes him feel on edge at times, unsure of what to expect next. So, he creates alarm in the form of small leaf piles and spreads them all around the area. No infected or person will be able to come too close to the shack without Keith being alerted.

He knows that they can’t stay. They’ll have to leave sometime soon to try and find a safer place—another thing that remains unmentioned as the hours fly by.

It doesn’t help that Keith is starting to feel comfortable, content with the small routine they’ve made out here. In the privacy of his own mind, he thinks about what it would be like if the two of them decided to live out the rest of their days here. He probably wouldn’t mind it that much, honestly. They’d have food, water, a roof over their heads, and the safety that comes so rarely.

Funny how his mind automatically includes Shiro in his life, like there would be no point to it without him.

The few bruises he obtained heal and his split lip is getting there. Shiro’s gaze is on it more often than not, only looking away when Keith catches him. Sometimes Keith will brush a finger over it when he’s supposed to be asleep, the pain comparable to a pinch now, as he recalls Shiro’s own touch against it.

Nobody has ever touched him like that before.

After the community they grew closer in a way that confused Keith, because he’s never really let anyone else get that close to him—besides his family—and yet with Shiro it’s somehow easy to allow. Their touches hadn’t been limited, growing into a natural thing like their hands were made for each other.

Even now it’s still like that, only Shiro seems to find more reasons to touch Keith—thighs pressed against each other when they sit, fingers grazing his own when he’s grabbing something, a hand on his back as Shiro greets him in the morning.

He doesn’t say anything about it because he, well, likes it.

Keith can’t name the feeling he gets whenever he’s around Shiro. Each time he tries to figure it out on his own it dissipates like sand blowing away in the wind, escaping his grasp and drifting away.

Maybe he’ll figure it out soon enough.

☆ ☆ ☆

One night the leaves crunch, causing Keith to straighten up in surprise. He’s already reaching for his assault rifle when he hears it again, closer to the door. Keith rises without a sound, pointing his gun in the direction of the door. Shiro is doing the same with a pistol.

He rests his finger on the trigger, holding his breath when the knob starts to turn.

It swings open and he levels the gun at their forehead, only to lower it in shock.

“Lance?” Keith asks at the same time as Shiro, though Shiro’s was more of an exclamation of joy than his own inquisitive one.

“Oh my god,” Lance’s mouth drops open as he stares at Keith, wide-eyed when they trail over to Shiro. Keith watches his eyes well up, honestly stunned at the tears that fall from them. “You’re alive! Oh my god!”

There’s relief in Shiro’s voice and in the dim lighting Keith thinks that his eyes are wet, too, “I thought you didn’t make it.”

“We all thought you didn’t either,” Lance says in-between hitched breaths. He steps inside, leaving his own gun on the floor before wrapping his arms around Shiro. They hug long enough for Keith to feel awkward, looking away from them to gaze out the window. “I’m so happy you’re okay, dude.”

He jumps, startled, when arms wrap around him next. He turns his gaze to Shiro, who looks on with the softest expression he’s ever seen. Feeling his cheeks burn, for reasons unknown, Keith slowly reciprocates the hug and twitches when Lance simply squeezes him tighter. He’s relieved when they break apart.

Lance’s statement registers.

“Who else made it out?” Keith asks, catching a glimpse of hope blooming onto Shiro’s face. “Are they with you right now?”

“Oh!” Lance breaks out into the brightest grin he’s ever seen on anyone and he rushes to the doorway, waving a hand outside. Keith keeps his eyes on Lance, grip on his gun going slack when more people appear in his field of vision.

They have the same reaction Lance had, gawking at them once they’ve step inside. The door is shut behind them and now the small shack is filled up with people from their community. He suddenly feels bad for not talking to them as much, undeserving of the happiness on their face when they look at him.

Hunk bursts into tears.

That sets the rest of them off too as they all crash into Shiro. He’s somehow pulled into the hug as well, Pidge’s small arms around his waist and Coran’s cheek pressed against his head. Keith’s reaction is slower than theirs but he does hug them back, feeling shaky all over—unaccustomed to people actually _missing_ him.

Keith’s vision blurs and when he wipes his eyes he ends up staring at his hand, dumbfounded over the fact that he’s shedding his own tears.

Eventually, the hugging comes to a stop. They seem reluctant to leave so Shiro sits down on the floor, the rest of them following. Conversation fills the air as Keith moves toward the water bucket in the tiny sink, splashing water on his face and taking a deep breath. Their words don’t really register but the sound of their voices is strangely comforting.

He head back over to their circle and sits down next to Shiro, the only open space, and is dragged into the conversation when Pidge turns to him with a curious expression.

“How did you two make it out of there?”

Keith shrugs. “We walked.”

Pidge huffs, crossing her arms. “I want a serious answer,” she complains. “How did you get past all those infected? There were so many in front of Shiro’s house...”

“He’s being serious, Pidge.” Shiro cuts in before Keith can say anything more. Keith frowns at him and Shiro merely smiles in return, continuing, “He’s just leaving out the part where we covered ourselves in guts.”

The reaction is instant, noises of disgust and looks of horror.

“That really worked?” Pidge asks, looking awed. “Did you put it on your skin or on your clothes? They didn’t find out you were different from them? Why do you think it worked?”

“Yes, it worked,” Keith answers, amused. “We smeared it on jackets and sheets before putting those over our own clothes. They left us alone since we smelled like them. If we didn’t then they would have torn us apart once we stepped out the door.”

“Wow,” Pidge says quietly. “Did you do something like that before?”

He can feel Shiro’s eyes on him and knows that he’s also curious. “Sort of,” Keith says and then looks to Allura, serious now. “We can’t stay here, you know. We’ll have to keep moving.”

She lets out a sigh, fingers tapping along her knee. “I know,” she says after a long pause. “This little shack won’t hold out for long, especially when the season changes. We need to find a better to place to live in.”

They all fall silent, thinking.

“We could go to the mountains?” Lance suddenly says, looking thoughtful. “You’ve all noticed that the cold slows them down, right? What if we find some place snowy?”

“We don’t even have to go to the mountains for that,” Hunk counters. “If we just head north then we’ll definitely end up in a place that has snow.”

Everyone falls into a discussion about it, trying to figure out the perfect area to live in. Keith slowly slides backwards unnoticed until his back hits the wall, getting up and exiting the shack without alerting the others.

He doesn’t need to add anything to the conversation when he already knows it’s a good idea, a thought in the back of his head if Shiro and himself weren’t able to find somewhere to stay before winter came.

The door opens behind him and a soft weight is pressed against his right side a second later. When Keith looks down he sees Pidge’s hair.

“Thought you’d want to stay inside.” he comments, turning his attention to the lake. The moon creates a nice image across it, shimmering and undisturbed.

“I know everyone else is in there,” Pidge replies, wrapping her arms around his right one. “But you’re out here all alone and I can’t have that, I don’t want you out of my sight.”

“How come?”

He doesn’t have to see her face to know that she looks exasperated. “Because you’re my friend.”

Keith considers this. “You don’t even know me,” he ends up saying quietly, not even trying to hide the curious note to his words. “Can you really call me your friend when you barely know who I am?”

“A good person,” Pidge says confidently, and Keith almost laughs. “I know we didn’t really talk much at the community but I still consider you one, and I know Shiro does too so that’s enough for me.” She pauses. “You can’t get rid of me now, we’re friends for life.”

“When did that happen?”

“You remember the day we met?”

His laughter is silent, body shaking with mirth while Pidge laughs freely. He reaches over with his free hand and ruffles her hair, the two of them eventually sitting down on the wood beneath them in a comfortable silence.

“Do _you_ think we’ll be safe up north?” Pidge says after minutes pass, sounding so unsure and fearful. “What if it doesn’t work? What if we get there and it turns out to be the worst decision ever?”

“Hey, hey,” Keith murmurs calmly, taking one of her hands in his own. She’s trembling, he can feel it, so he wraps his arm around her while and starts rubbing her bicep. “Don’t throw yourself into a panic right now. It won’t do you any good.”

“That doesn’t answer any of my questions.”

“I can give you an answer but I don’t think you’ll like it.” He waits for her to nod before continuing, staring up at the sky. “I don’t know if we’ll be safe because I haven’t felt safe in a long while; the feeling is hard to remember. It could be the right thing to do. Maybe we’ll be able to live there for the rest of our lives or maybe we’ll be there for a couple of days. We’ll never know unless we try.”

Pidge has stopped shaking. When he looks over he meets her surprised gaze, which is followed up with a smile. “Thanks, that did help.” she finally says quietly, giving his hand a squeeze before letting go. “One more question.”

“I’m listening.”

“How come you’re nice to me? I know you’re nice to Shiro, in a totally different way, and the others you seem to tolerate—don’t try to deny it, I’ve only known you for a while and I get the feeling that befriending people isn’t easy for you—so… why me?”

He stills and finds that he can’t drag his gaze away away from her, staring at her curious and expectant expression. Seeing it brings back memories of another person who always wore a similar one.

_(A hand tugging on his shirt, asking about all the things around them followed by a delighted laugh when his explanation ended up being too silly. Always, always staying close to him—trusting that he would keep her safe, like he always promised.)_

It’s not painful this time.

“You remind me of someone I knew.” Keith answers honestly.

Her face shifts from joy, at having her question answered most likely, to understanding. There’s no pity in her eyes, not like what he used to get before when he still lived in his old neighborhood, and he’s grateful when she doesn’t prod him for more answers. She rests her head on his shoulder and the night continues quietly.

They only move when Shiro opens the door, the look of worry on his face clearing at the sight of them. Keith offers a smile in apology and receives one in return, telling him that all is forgiven. He lets Pidge go in first so he can stand with Shiro, eyes scanning the room as everyone takes different spots on the floor to lie down.

“We’re going,” Shiro says quietly, leaning in closer when he speaks. Keith shivers a bit at the puff of air he feels along his ear. “Until we find a cabin since it’ll probably be big enough for all of us. Unless we find something better along the way, then we’ll claim that instead.”

“When are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Keith hums thoughtfully. “Afternoon would be better, we could have fish for breakfast if there are still some left in the lake,” he says the last part teasingly, poking his arm.

The reaction he gets is as expected, a pout on Shiro’s face.

Both of them laugh only a few seconds later, Keith entering the shack with Shiro at his side. He looks around the room again, noting how everyone is slowly falling asleep. “You should join them,” he tells Shiro. “I’ll stay up and keep watch.”

“I don’t think I can.”

Instead of pushing Shiro to do so, he tugs on the man’s sleeve. Keith slides down to the floor with his back against the wall and waits for Shiro to join him. “Then we can both do the job,” Keith says once Shiro’s sitting next to him.

Shiro smiles at him, relief displayed openly on his face.

They say nothing else for the next couple of hours, Keith with his head tilted back and Shiro staring down at his lap. The only reason they manage to get some rest is because Coran forces them away, gently shoving them to one of the corners.

He realizes that he’s only able to do so because Shiro is right beside him, much like the past few nights here in the shack. Compared to the time he spent alone and in other communities, it’s definitely easier to fall asleep now as long as he’s with Shiro.

Keith tries not to think about it too much, letting himself sleep instead.

☆ ☆ ☆

It’s pretty early in the morning, as all of them had gotten up right when the sun started rising so they could work on breakfast. Hunk decides to cook up the fish for everyone and Keith stays with him to help cut them up, the rest out fishing on the dock.

Shiro spent a good forty-five minutes teaching the others how to do it and Keith found enjoyment in watching him grow more and more exasperated when they couldn’t.

They were probably messing around with him instead, a theory proven right when he hears all of them burst into laughter after Shiro sits down as if defeated.

He’s still smiling about it even as he focuses on what he’s doing.

“So, uh, hey,” Hunk says. “Everyone’s been wanting to ask but no one has the guts to do it. I mean, I also don’t have the guts to do it but since I’m already talking about it I might as well!”

“What are you even talking about?” Keith asks, completely confused.

“Right, sorry. Uh, what’s with you and Shiro?

Keith stops cutting the fish, raising an eyebrow at Hunk. “What do you mean?”

Hunk blinks back at him, grabbing a few pieces of fish and smearing some kind of sweet-smelling liquid on it. He puts them in the pot with the previous chunks, a sizzling and popping sound reaching his ears. “Are you two together or something?” he asks.

“Yes.” Keith answers.

“Wait, really!?”

Going back to his task, Keith frowns. “I don’t know why that’s so surprising,” he says. “We’ve been travelling together since the community was attacked.”

Once finished he holds out the plate with the rest of the cut up fish, waiting for Hunk to take them. When he doesn’t feel it leave his grasp he looks up, only to be pinned by his dismayed gaze.

“Keith,” Hunk says slowly. “I’m asking if you’re _with_ Shiro.”

He doesn’t have to think too hard about to figure out what he’s implying, nearly dropping the plate. “No!” Keith nearly shouts. He knows that he’s most likely flushed from embarrassment, only because he didn’t realize what Hunk was trying to ask.

Also, thanks to that, he’s now thinking of _being_ with Shiro, and it makes his stomach twist in the strangest way.

His hand is empty not even a second later, Hunk not looking at him as he spreads liquid on those pieces as well. After a while, it seems like Hunk is trying to say something more but their conversation seems to be over when more fish is dropped into the cooler in front of Keith.

“Looks like your job isn’t over yet, buddy!” Lance exclaims, grinning as he plops down beside Hunk. “So, come on! Chop, chop! My fish aren’t going to cut themselves!”

Keith glares.

“You caught it, you cut it. That’s the rule for today.”

The knife is taken from his hands and Keith almost laughs at the look of disbelief on Lance’s face when it’s passed over to him. The serious air Shiro gives off doesn’t match the amusement in his eyes, only seen when Keith glances up. Shiro winks at him and Keith has to cover up his laugh with a cough this time.

“How about this?” Coran plops down next to Lance, reaching across him and grabbing a knife from Hunk’s side. “We have a race and whoever finishes cutting their fish first wins a prize!”

Lance squints at him. “What kind of prize?” he questions. “Money? A motorcycle? A trip to Disneyland?”

“Extra fish, of course!”

Keith smiles to himself as the conversation continues, until they settle on extra fish _and_ whatever candy bar the loser finds in the future. Allura even joins in, wielding one of the better knives they found in the cabin.

“All of you are going _down,_ ” she had muttered before the race started, so it didn’t surprise him when she did win. Keith allows his laughter to spill out, the forlorn expressions on both Lance and Coran’s faces making the situation even funnier.

He’s only just gotten himself under control when Shiro sits down beside him, knees bumping as they both share a smile.

“You ready to leave all the fish behind?” Keith asks as he hands a knife over to him.

“I’m ready to leave this place behind but not the fish, I’m too used to the taste of it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

He hums in amusement, gaze drawn to Shiro’s hands as he goes about cutting up his fish. His hands are much larger than Keith’s, something that he’s noticed before but hasn’t really registered until now. Keith remembers the feel of them in his own, grip strong and sure, and then he recalls how Shiro placed them on his face after he killed Sendak.

He wonders how they would feel _on_ him.

“Keith? Your food is ready.”

Heat spreads across his cheeks as he jerks to attention, eyes falling on Hunk and taking the plate that’s held out to him. “Thanks.” he says, catching Shiro’s furrowed brow before focusing on his food.

_Where did that thought come from?_

He can feel Shiro’s gaze on him and that does not help the blush that refuses to go away. Keith keeps his head low, only looking up when a few more pieces are slid onto his plate.

Shiro smiles at him. “I’m not that hungry.”

“Yeah, right,” Keith scoffs and dumps them back onto his plate, narrowing his eyes when Shiro laughs. “I know you can eat more than this so please do, we won’t have much for the road.”

He doesn’t listen to Keith and they bicker over it for several seconds. They do actually reach a middle ground and split it between the two of them, thus appeasing Shiro.

Once they finish eating it’s time to go, all of them making sure that they’ve left nothing behind and cleaning up after themselves so there’s no indication that they’d been there in the first place. When they start to split off Keith actually feels a dash of panic, not wanting to be separated from everyone after they just found each other.

Shiro clears it up instantly and while Keith knows it’s just to be nice, he still feels relieved.

“We have enough space in our van for about two more people,” Shiro offers, opening the back doors. “You’ll have to sit in the back but be warned: there are no seats in here.”

“I’ll go,” Hunk climbs inside, sitting with his back against one of the sides. “Come and join me, Lance, it’ll be fun!”

Lance looks over at Keith. “Is Shiro a good driver?”

He shrugs. “I was the one who drove us over here. I think I’ll be the one to drive this time as well.”

“Is _Keith_ a good driver, then?” Lance asks next, looking over at Shiro.

Shiro smiles. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

Keith kicks him and scowls when Shiro starts laughing, adding a light punch to his arm while saying, “I drive just _fine,_ thank you very much.”

“That doesn’t reassure me at all,” Lance still heads into the van, sitting across Hunk. They wave at Allura, Coran, and Pidge before Shiro closes the doors, the two of them doing the same before sliding into their respective seats.

He starts up the van, taking a deep breath as he places both hands on the steering wheel. Keith then looks over at Shiro, keeping his voice low when he asks, “You ready?”

Shiro smiles. “As long as you’re here then I definitely am.”

Keith keeps his eyes on the rearview mirror and waits for the other car to start driving out, following after it. He does sneak a few peeks at the shack until it’s just a speck in the distance, putting all of his focus on the road when he can no longer see it.

Hunk and Lance fall asleep almost immediately and Keith snickers when Shiro points it out.

After about two hours of driving Keith speaks up, keeping his voice quiet so he won’t wake up their friends. “Same here.” He carefully makes a turn when the others do. “I know we’ll be fine because you’ll be by my side.”

There’s no response for quite some time and when he glances over at Shiro he has to stop himself from openly staring at the pink tinge to his cheeks, the surprised yet pleased expression on his face only making it a more endearing sight.

 _Oh,_ Keith thinks, wondering why it took so long to understand. _I like him._

This revelation does not shock him, almost like a part of him had already accepted it long ago and was just waiting for the rest of him to catch up.

“You okay?” Shiro asks in a voice laced with concern.

A breathy laugh leaves Keith’s lips. “Never better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he only wanted one peach


	3. Winter

Winter

 

The air is colder than usual and while it is bothersome, he can appreciate the free pass it gives them. 

Infected have been scarce ever since the season changed, the cold air making their bodies all slow and forcing them to retreat as if they’re in need of hibernation like the many animals that do. There have been some that still linger, so far only found in other buildings when they venture out of their current living space, and they’re always easy to kill.

It’s a relief to be able to travel through the forest without worrying about the dead being amongst the nature around them, following the path that they marked by painting bright red stripes along the tree trunks into the small town nearby.

Usually, two or three of their group will head in to grab whatever they need (mostly food, water, and batteries) and that’s been keeping their heads afloat for a while. Since they’ve been repeating this action for a while, supplies are slowly dwindling in that area and they’ll soon have to take a car out even further when food runs low.

Today they won’t have to do that, the priority is different.

“It’s not like they’ll die,” Pidge is muttering as they take their small break, taking slow breaths while she sits on the dirt. Her tattered, green jacket is zipped up all the way to her neck with a scarf wrapped around it and hair stuffed into a beanie. She’s still shivering, despite the many layers she claimed to be wearing, so most of her sullenness stems from that. “It’s just the flu.”

“A flu that has gotten worse since the symptoms started showing,” Shiro counters, hands on his hips as he sweeps his gaze around them. He’s not really keeping an eye out for anything in particular but his wariness will probably never die down, a habit that’s ingrained in him at this point. He catches her sigh and says, “The medicine we currently have won’t help their high fevers, remember?”

Someone jumps down from the tree next to him and Pidge, brushing the bark off his red jacket.

“Ibuprofen can only do so much,” Keith comments when he stands, gloved hands tucked into his pockets. Although Keith had said he wasn’t cold, Shiro swears he sees him shuddering from time to time. He doesn’t comment on it, knowing that Keith will be fine until he says otherwise. Keith continues after jabbing a thumb in the direction they’re going to go. 

“It’s clear up ahead, nothing blocking our way and no sign of infected  _ or _ people.”

Shiro nods, standing up straighter. “You two still have bullets, right?” He looks from Keith to Pidge, waiting for their confirmations before continuing, “Only shoot if you really have to because I know we’re limited on ammo. Call out if something’s really wrong.”

“I know, I know.” Pidge responds, standing beside Keith with a curious expression. “Are we going to split up this time to cover more ground? I know there are two pharmacies down there but I think the one we frequent is safer than the other.”

He frowns. “It’s a good idea but—”

“You and Keith can go to the dangerous one while I go to the safer one!” Pidge exclaims, looking pleased with herself even though she cut him off. There’s a flash of something in her eyes as they flick from Shiro to Keith but he ignores it for now, feeling his stomach twist with nerves at the thought of being alone with Keith. “It makes perfect sense since you two can handle yourselves better.”

He looks over at Keith, who smiles back at him and says, “She’s not wrong.”

They start walking again, finally entering the town and splitting up just like they planned. The doors to the second pharmacy are boarded up but they decide to enter through one of the broken windows, Shiro pulling out his flashlight and shining it across the room once inside.

“Spot anything?”

Shiro shakes his head and looks around them, pointing his flashlight at the floor and swiping a brick off of it. “One way to find out if there are infected here,” he comments before throwing it deeper inside.

It crashes into something and knocks it over, the sound echoing in the empty building, and Shiro waits.

Nothing happens.

“I guess that means we’re good to go,” Keith says, already moving ahead with a flashlight of his own. “Let’s go find that medicine.”

Pulling out a small piece of paper from his pocket, Shiro can’t help but take a moment to feel grateful that Pidge wrote a list for him. She told them all that her mother worked at the hospital and that she let Pidge read through her medical school books whenever she was bored. Lucky for them, she still had some of it memorized and easily recalled what they would need for the rest of their group.

He reads off the different medicines while Keith searches, repeating it when asked and keeping watch around them.

“Why couldn't it be something like  _ Theraflu _ or  _ Delsym? _ ” He hears Keith grumble and has to stifle his laugh over how irked he sounds. “That's what everyone takes when they're sick, I hear.”

Shiro briefly shines the light on Keith’s face, grinning when he receives a glare in response. “Oh, yeah?” he says. “What about you? What did you take?”

“I never took anything! I got through my sickness with soup and willpower.”

“That doesn't seem remotely possible to me so I choose not to believe it.”

Keith huffs at him and seems like he’ll reply, but no response comes because he cuts himself off with his own cheer. He pulls out a small bottle and gives it a shake, grinning and saying, “One down, however many more to go.” The rattle of those pills is one of the most glorious sounds Shiro’s ever heard.

“If you find more than one then take it,” Shiro says and grabs the one bottle from Keith to shove it into his bag. “The flu could spread to the ones who haven't gotten sick yet and it would be nice to have some extra medicine for the future.”

“Always thinking ahead.” Keith sighs out.

“I have to. Spring will be coming up which probably means another batch of flus just waiting for us.”

He’s tossed another bottle of the same type of pills, followed by one more. He looks at the label and counts in his head—thirty in each means they’ll end up with ninety overall. “I think that’s a good amount so let’s keep it to three for each.”

It’s a slow process to get through the rest of the list, especially when some pill bottles are opened and scattered all over the shelf, but they finally manage to get all but one. Keith searches through the shelves, Shiro joining in, and they find nothing.

“God, at least take the whole damn thing so our hopes won’t be raised,” Keith grumbles, throwing another empty bottle to the floor. “This is the fifth one. Why the hell would they need it?”

“Maybe they got sick as well,” Shiro offers, looking around the room. When he shines his flashlight around again he discovers a door on the wall and takes a step toward it. “Maybe there’s more back here,” he says to himself and reaches out to turn the handle. He’s able to do so just fine but the door won’t open. When he pushes against it the door seems to give a little. “Something must be blocking it.”

“Need my help?” Keith asks.

“I think I can shove it open myself,” Shiro turns his flashlight off, stuffing it into his pocket. “Shine yours toward the doorway so we can see what’s inside when I do.”

It takes a few tries but he finally manages to bust it open, catching himself on the doorway before he falls in. The light moves up to the shelves in the smaller room, showcasing more shelves full of pill bottles, and he turns back to smile at Keith. 

“We’re in luck!” 

Keith smiles back at him, obviously relieved, before his eyes go wide with fright. “Shiro! Look out!”

Whirling around, he raises his arm up just as an infected lunges at him. Shiro shoves it away harshly and takes a step back but it just stumbles toward him again, gnarled hands reaching for him while its teeth snap together— _ hungry. _ Shiro pulls out his knife, gripping the handle tight as he surges forward to jam the blade into its head.

The body collapses to the floor and Shiro thinks that’s it, but is immediately proven wrong when two more follow. One trips over the body in its attempt to snag him while the other makes its way towards Keith.

Shiro moves quickly, practically throwing himself to the floor to pull his knife out of the corpse’s head and shove it through the eye of the infected reaching for him. The final one changes its course after Keith has pushed it away, eyes flicking to Keith who has unsheathed his machete.

The infected snarls at him, the sound cut off as the blade sinks into its head and kills it for good. Shiro steps closer to Keith after it falls to the ground with a loud  _ thud  _ and inspects him for any bites or scratches, something that Keith allows with an amused huff, and nods to himself in satisfaction when he sees nothing. He crouches down to pull the machete free, wiping it on the ratty shirt on the body before holding it up to Keith.

“Thanks.” He hears Keith say when he takes it.

He does the same with his knife, tucking it into its sheath and standing. Shiro takes the time to look over himself, wiping off any dirt on his clothes. 

Keith’s voice makes him pause, a frightened whisper that forces him to look up and see the dread on his face. “Shiro…”

“What’s wrong?” Shiro asks while trying not to feel panicked, wondering what could have happened. Did Keith get hurt? No, wait, Shiro checked him so he should be fine. But if he is then what’s the reason for this? “Are you okay?”

Keith is staring at his arm, the same emotion still present in his voice when he asks, “You got bit?”

He follows his gaze and frowns at the sight of bite marks on the sleeve of his jacket, tearing the fabric. “No?” Shiro pushes his sleeve up, revealing his metal arm that has barely a scratch. He holds it out towards him and offers a small smile. “I think I’m fine, Keith.”

Despite the reassurance, Keith doesn’t seem to relax. Not until his fingers trail along Shiro’s arm. The touch is muted, always has been, and feels similar to when he’s touched through his layers of clothes. He does not try to stop Keith’s path and when the fingers reach Shiro’s palm, he curls his hand around them before Keith can move away and gives those appendages a light squeeze.

“Sorry,” Keith says quietly. “I worried so much that I guess I forgot about it.”

“Understandable,” he replies, sad that he has to let go of Keith’s hand so they can move on with their original task. “You wanna go in there or should I? It’s pretty small.”

“Obviously I have to since you’d just get stuck,” Keith walks past him and heads into the other room, Shiro staying outside and pulling his flashlight out again to shine it inside.

He hears a small scoff and frowns, trying to peer in and only seeing Keith’s back. "You good?”

Keith doesn’t respond to that, coming back out moments later with two bottles in hand. “They must have thought that medicine would help them, or maybe they tried to off themselves with pills. There were a bunch missing and a few scattered on the floor,” he says, shaking his head and sighing. “Probably didn’t know that the infection was in them already.”

Taking the pills from him and placing them in his bag, Shiro also sighs. “It seems a bit unfair, doesn’t it? You become one of them when you die, no matter the circumstances.” Shiro pauses to shoulder his bag again, continuing with a sheepish note, “I don’t understand how it works, either.”

“I don’t think anyone does, Shiro.” Keith says as they start walking towards their entrance. “It’s just common knowledge at this point. You die, you turn, so don’t die.”

“Sounds like some kind of motto,” Shiro comments, hopping out of the window and holding out a hand to help Keith. “Learn that at Infected Killing School?”

“Yup! The first lesson? Don’t get bit.”

Once outside they both put their flashlights away and make sure that everything is safe in their bags. Shiro thinks he can spot Pidge leaning against the outside wall of the other pharmacy, waving a hand after her head turns in their direction.

“Got everything?” she asks when they stop in front of her.

“Surprisingly enough, we did.” Shiro takes the other bag she’s holding, peering inside and blinking in surprise at all the water bottles and Gatorade that rest in there. “Looks like you hit the jackpot.”

“I managed to get into the staff room!” she crows. “I only got what I could carry but it should be enough for Hunk and Lance, and anyone else who might get sick.”

Keith bumps his arm against Pidge’s as they walk, a kind smile on his face. “We can come back another time to get the rest, you did good today.”

She beams up at him. “Thanks! I’m sure you guys were even better, though!”

“Pretty sure that’s a lie, Pidge, because that’s all you.” 

Shiro has to stop himself from smiling at the exchange.

☆ ☆ ☆

They arrive at the cabin before the sun starts shining through the clouds. Shiro knocks three times on the door, a signal amongst themselves that changes every time they go out, and is greeted by Coran when he swings the door open.

“Thank goodness you’re here.” Coran seems frazzled, already walking away before Shiro can close the door behind them. “Pidge, come with me. I need your help.”

Pidge looks alarmed but she still follows after him, leaving Shiro and Keith to do the same until they reach the room where Hunk and Lance are, looking far worse than when they had left as they lay curled up on their beds with sweat beading at their foreheads.

Shiro starts taking out the bottles of medicine, handing them over to Pidge when she holds out a hand. He’s about to offer his help when he’s pushed out into the hall by Coran, an apologetic but determined expression on his face.

“We can’t risk you two getting sick too,” Coran says, looking at Keith who comes out of the room a second later. “I need you two to go downstairs and talk to Allura about going back out there for ice packs, I trust her judgement on whether it’s okay or not.”

Shiro frowns. “Are their fevers that bad?”

“The temperature isn’t too high but I really don’t know how they’ll react to the medicine,” Coran sighs, sounding weary, with tired lines on his face that make him seem older than he actually is. “Pidge and I will stay in their rooms to keep an eye on them. If we end up getting sick then I’ll have her write down what we should be given so we can get better.”

“Don’t forget to rest,” Keith warns. “You won’t be able to do anything for them if you’re not in good shape, after all.”

“There’s no need to worry, I’ll be alright.”

Shiro nearly laughs at the annoyed expression on Keith’s face when Coran ruffles his hair, settling for an amused smile when he catches sight of the tiny spark of happiness in Keith’s eyes. 

“Here,” Shiro says, recalling the bag of drinks that Pidge salvaged out there and holding it out to him. “In case they need some.”

“I stocked up with a bunch of water while you three were gone so we should be fine, but thank you.” Coran says, pushing it back towards him. A smile is fixed on his face, peering back into the room as he speaks, “If you two do end up going out then please be safe, I might not be able to say it when you guys leave.”

“We will,” Shiro promises, peeking inside the room as well. Pidge is placing small towels on Lance and Hunk’s forehead, obviously trying to cool them down the best she can. “Take care of them.”

Coran faces them again, placing his left hand over his heart while using his right to salute him. He then walks backward into the room with a brighter smile that’s closer to his usual self. “Try and bring back more soup as well, that’s been easier on them than solid foods.”

“We’ll do our best.”

They find Allura in the kitchen, sitting at the small circular table with a bowl of soup in front of her. Keith moves past the two of them as Shiro sits down across her, stopping when he opens up the cupboard. 

“Is there enough left for the others?” Keith asks.

“Yes, there is, but leave behind the chicken noodle ones for them.” Allura lifts her bowl and takes a few sips from it without making a sound, looking at Shiro once she’s set it back down. “I think you two might have to go back out there.”

“I know, Coran told us.” Shiro sighs and looks over at Keith, watching him pour a can of soup into a pot before placing it on the stove. “The only problem is that all the stores in town are practically empty and I don’t recall seeing any ice packs in there. We’ve also taken any food we can find with every trip so I bet there’s barely anything left, soup included.”

Allura grimaces. “And we don’t know how far the next area with supplies will be.”

They fall into a silence after that, the air full of the worry. 

Shiro stares down at the table with a furrowed brow, wondering how exactly they’ll be able to venture out farther without walking. Would they be able to do it? Would it be safe?

Everything comes back into focus when a bowl is placed in front of him, the smell of tomato soup bringing his hunger back quite suddenly. “Thank you,” Shiro murmurs to Keith as he slides into the seat beside Shiro, receiving a nod in return.

Shiro tries not to make any noise whenever he drinks from his bowl and fails a few times, feeling embarrassed when he sees the amused quirk to Keith’s lips.

Keith speaks up while he’s halfway through drinking his soup, somehow already done with his own, “We can take the car to go out, which is what we were already planning to do.” 

That’s right. How could he forget about the car?

“Are you certain you want to go back out there?” Allura asks with concern. “We won’t hold it against you if you decide to make the trip first thing in the morning.”

“Their fevers could get worse if we wait too long, even with the medicine.” Shiro cuts in and nods at Keith. “We’ll only be looking for two things so we’ll just get in and get out and hopefully come back home before it’s night.”

Allura’s concern doesn’t quite leave her face but there is acceptance there, shown in her firm nod before she asks, “Will you be leaving soon?”

He shares a look with Keith and then quickly finishes off his soup, placing the bowl down on the table and wiping his hand across his mouth. “Right now, actually.” Shiro answers, standing up.

Their bowls are taken before he can grab them. “Don’t waste any time, I’ll handle these for today.” Allura smiles at them. “Good luck and be safe. See you later.”

☆ ☆ ☆

It only took about an hour and a half to get to another town, no infected in sight when he drives in. Shiro parks behind one of the buildings and grabs his backpack from the backseat before getting out, making sure he has all his weapons as he stands outside the car.

“Are we splitting up this time?” Keith asks with a curious tilt to his head. 

“No,” Shiro answers firmly. “It wouldn’t be a good idea since we’ve never been here before, we don’t know what we’ll find. Searching together might take longer, yeah, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

Walking down the street also brings the discovery that there’s only one store which stands tall at the far end of it. The windows are unbroken, smudged handprints telling Shiro that it’s not quite as untouched as it seems. No infected come out when he and Keith bang on the glass so he deems it safe and opens the door with no struggle, shining his light inside as Keith slips in first.

He lets it fall shut behind him and walks to stand beside Keith’s still figure, about to ask what’s wrong when the shelves catch his attention. Even in the darkness he can see that they’re all filled up with different items and when he directs his light on them he can see that it’s all pristine.

“How is all of this still here?” Shiro wonders. “With how open it is I thought there’d barely be anything.”

“Are you really complaining?” Keith is already moving towards one aisle. The sign above it is too faded and dusty to tell him anything so he shrugs and follows him, trusting that he knows where he’s going.

Keith is already pulling ice packs off a small rack, the ones that you crack to activate. There aren’t that many left but he still grabs the rest that Keith doesn’t get, knowing that overstocking would be the right thing to do in case more people get sick.

The other signs are as illegible as the first so they have to walk through every aisle until they find the one that carries all the soups. These shelves seemed to be fully stocked with them so they take as many as they can carry, Shiro adding in a few packets of ramen in case someone will want to spare their own water for it. 

Shiro crouches down on the floor so he can carefully arrange them in his backpack, not wanting it to feel too bulky on his back, and taking the extras that Keith hands to him. He stands up and peers inside worriedly, directing the same face to Keith.

“You think this is enough?” Shiro asks. 

Keith places a couple of ice packs on top of the soups and does the same in his own, zipping it up and shouldering his bag a few seconds later, shrugging as he says, “We got as much as we could carry so hopefully it’ll keep us going for a couple of more weeks. If it doesn’t then we can always come back.”

When they finally step outside Shiro is surprised to see all the white that covers the ground. Not a lot, since it seems to have just started, but enough to tell him what it is. He looks over at Keith who looks as shocked as he feels, an expression that’s quickly replaced.

“Oh!” Joy blooms on Keith’s face as he turns his face towards the sky, releasing a bright laugh that is pure delight and surprise. “I’ve never seen snow before!”

Shiro can’t even force his eyes away, staring at Keith in amazement. It’s like a whole new person in front of him, one who cups his hands and raises them up as if to capture the snow in his palms. The happiness seems to radiate from him and Shiro finds himself smiling as well, walking towards him and feeling his breath hitch when the beam is directed at him.

“Do you see it all?” Keith asks him. “It’s so…” he trails off when he’s distracted by more falling snow.

“Pretty,” he finishes quietly, gaze still on Keith.

Thankfully, Keith doesn’t notice his stare and continues speaking in a curious tone, “Do you think more will fall? Enough to make a snowman or something?” He pauses. “That’s what you do when it snows, right?”

“Snowball fights, too.” Shiro adds on, content to watch him forever. They do have to get going so he clears his throat, hefting the bag higher onto his shoulder when he says, a bit regretfully, “We should get going, we’ll have enough time to do all that once we go home.”

Keith turns to him, the smile not even leaving his face. “You’ll help me, right?”

“Of course.”

He’s about to start walking when something catches his attention, reaching out to grab Keith’s arm to keep him still. Shiro says nothing as he drags that hand up to Keith’s hair, gently wiping away the snow that had fallen on top of it. He curls one lock around his finger, enjoying the softness of it against his skin for only a moment, before letting it go. 

Keith blinks at him.

“Sorry.” He clears his throat and looks away, cheeks burning. “You had some snow in your hair.”

“Oh,” says Keith in a quiet voice. “Thanks.”

They continue their trek back to the car and Shiro stops at the sight of it, feeling Keith bump into him.

“Hey!” 

Shiro doesn’t respond and takes slow steps toward the vehicle. He eyes the slashed tires and broken windows, frowning at the mess left inside when he peeks through one of the open doors—seats all ripped up and and the bottom full of dirt and snow. 

“Looks like someone doesn’t want us to leave,” he says and looks back at Keith. “Think we can make it back to our place without dying?”

“Don’t even joke like that,” Keith stands beside him, staring at all the damage with confused look. “Who could have done this? We saw no one else when we drove in.”

Something crunches behind them.

He doesn’t even hesitate, pushing Keith to the ground and covering him with his body. A blade swings through the spot they were just in, all brown with rust which matches well with the dirty clothes this newcomer wears.

“Sorry,” he whispers quickly to Keith, picking himself up and helping him to stand. He then faces the stranger who is eerily still, turned away from them with a hood drawn up. “Uh, excuse me? Was there something you wanted?”

The puff of air that’s released sounds similar to a laugh. “You stole from us,” they whisper in a gravelly voice. “We can’t let you leave after what you’ve done.”

“Take it back, then.” Keith says, backpack sliding off his shoulders and onto the floor. He kicks it towards the person with narrowed eyes, a hand resting on the handle of his machete. “We’ll move on and leave you alone.”

Shiro is surprised that Keith gave in so easily but when he catches the way his eyes flick from the blade to Shiro he understands, taking off his own backpack and dropping it beside the first. “We’re sorry for stealing from you,” he says quietly, hoping to placate them. “We didn’t know it was yours.”

_ How can it be theirs when it was in a store? _

He’s the only one that whirls around when there’s another crunch, noticing Keith staying in place when he chances a glance—most likely to keep an eye on the first person.

The second one wears a mask that covers up their whole face, two slits where their eyes should be. Shiro sees nothing coming out of them and figures it must be the hood shielding them. They also carry a blade by their side that’s in the same tarnished state as the other one.

“Returning it won’t keep you in our favor,” they say. “You already did the deed and the only way to repay us is with yourself.”

_ What? _

Shiro is about to ask what they mean by that when they suddenly swing their blade towards him. He thinks the first pulled the same move because Keith has moved with him, the two of them standing back to back with each other. He pulls out his knife and barely avoids the second swing, ducking and then moving closer with a quick roll and aiming the blade towards their thigh.

It hits, he knows it has by the blood on his knife, but they make no sound.

He doesn’t want to use his gun in case it attracts more people to them and resorts to dodging and trying to hit them again and again with his own weapon, hoping to tire this person out. 

A short glimpse at Keith reveals that he’s somehow meeting every strike of the blade with his machete and the knowledge that he’ll be fine on his own is what makes him focus back on his opponent, actually managing to knock their blade out of their hand and kicking them away.

But then Keith suddenly cries out and Shiro whirls around in time to see him go down.

A haze falls over him, the same color as the red of Keith’s blood that drips off the blade and onto the snow—turning it red. All thoughts of keeping quiet fly out the window as the anger settles in, pulling out his gun and shooting the first person in the shoulder as they’re raising their blade above Keith.

They stumble back and fall to one knee, a guttural hiss leaving them, and before he can fire another shot he feels a presence come up behind him, turning quickly and placing the barrel of the gun where one eye slit rests and firing without hesitation.

He doesn’t care about the ammo he’s wasting, firing three more shots into the first person’s stomach. They release another pained sound and Shiro imagines that they’re glaring up at him as he walks over to stand before them, final round going into their head. No more attention is given to either of the corpses, placing his gun back in its holster and rushing to Keith’s side.

With the way Keith’s eyes are closed, Shiro would think that he were dead had it not been for his shallow breaths. He doesn’t even allow himself the time to feel relieved because the wound is displayed clearly, jacket splayed open from his fall. 

Shiro drags his backpack toward him and searches around inside it, pulling out a few cans of soup as he does so. He comes up with one of his thicker shirts and starts pressing it against the injury, using his bionic hand to keep it there while his flesh fingers brush over Keith’s cheek.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs in a shaky voice. “Open your eyes.”

Keith’s brows furrow.

“That’s right, come back to me.”

Shiro’s never felt so happy to see Keith’s beautiful eyes, peering up at him in confusion before they flutter shut again. He doesn’t move from his position nor does he take his hand away, rubbing his thumb across Keith’s skin and allowing him to come back to himself.

“Did I hit my head?” Keith asks after a while, grimacing as he opens his eyes again.

“Maybe you did when you fell, I don’t know.” Shiro’s voice contains the slightest hint of a quiver, the fear he cannot suppress, and hopes Keith doesn’t pick it up. “We don’t exactly have a car to go back home so do you think you can walk?”

Even though he’s hurt, Keith still manages to sound indignant. “Of course I can!”

Making sure that Keith has a firm hold on the shirt on his wound, he helps him up after making sure both backpacks are able to stay on each shoulder with a single strap resting on it. 

Keith sways in place and waves away the hand that Shiro offers, smile lacking its usual strength. “We’ll probably make it before it starts getting dark.”

“Hopefully,” Shiro states, looking around them. “It looks like there’s going to be more snow.”

☆ ☆ ☆

They don’t make it to the cabin. 

Too much snow is coming down, relentless and strong. Shiro doesn’t like how pale Keith is starting to get so when he finds an abandoned van on the side of the road, unable to start even after many attempts, he decides that they’ll have to stay there for the night or until the snow stops falling.

Suitcases still lie in the trunk, the musty smell inside telling him that the vehicle has been here for a while, and he takes that as the go-ahead to search through them. He comes up with a first aid kit that contains enough gauze and tape for Keith, bringing it back to where he left him sitting in the back seat. 

Shiro wipes away the blood with some napkins he found in the glove compartment, helping Keith cover up his wound and turning away when he wants to change his shirt with a plain black long sleeve found in a bag inside.

“Are there blankets back there?” Keith asks once he’s turned back, shirt covering up the gauze completely. He’s pulling his jacket back on with careful movements and Shiro winces sympathetically when Keith hisses. “I’m kinda cold.” Keith pauses and starts to shuffle forward. “Actually, I’ll go look myself.”

“Stay here?” Shiro pushes Keith gently into the backseat, waiting for his grumbled agreement before going back to the trunk and searching through everything again. 

He finds three blankets and is about to take them back when another thing catches his eye, grabbing a pot and placing all four things beside Keith when he returns. Keith looks confused as he starts wrapping the blankets around himself, holding up the pot. 

Shiro just smiles. “Keep yourself warm, I’ll heat us up some soup.”

“I can help,” Keith looks sullen and Shiro has to bite back his smile. “I’m not weak, Shiro, and a small cut like this shouldn’t stop me.”

“Small cut, huh?” he mutters under his breath, ducking his head to avoid the swat that Keith aims at him. He looks back up not a second later, grasping Keith’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “Stay for me? I don’t want you to strain yourself. Who knows how long it’ll be until we’re able to keep moving?”

Keith grumbles some more but actually listens to him, settling back against the seat and looking pretty comfortable with three blankets around him.

He leaves him for now and gathers up plenty of sticks, dead wood, and rocks to make his fire. Whenever he glances over at Keith he’ll receive a thumbs up, a response to his unasked question of concern. 

Shiro is grateful that he can dig down to the dirt pretty easily, placing the rocks in a small neat pile with the wood on top of it and leaving the snow in a circle around it. After a few tries he finally manages to get a fire going, heading back to the van and holding a hand out.

“Can you pass me the pot and a can of soup?” he asks Keith, rolling his eyes when Keith raises an eyebrow and tacking on a, “Please?"

Keith starts doing as asked but instead opens the can and pours the liquid into the pot himself, handing it over with a frown. “Don’t you want another for yourself? You could heat up two cans worth at the same time.”

“I was planning to do yours first and then mine but you do make a good point.” He grabs a second one from Keith and pours that in with the first before carefully placing it on top of the flames. “Keep an eye on it? I’m gonna look for some bowls and spoons, hopefully these people decided to pack some.”

“They packed a pot so it’s safe to assume that they would have other things.”

Lucky for them, whoever the van belonged to thought to bring along the items he needs. The bowls are ceramic, chipped in a few places but still fit for use, and the only spoons he comes up with are ones discovered in a fast food bag in one of the front pockets.

Shiro pours the soup for Keith first so he can give him more than what he will give himself, handing the bowl over to him. Shiro hovers for longer until he’s sure that Keith can handle holding it on his own while keeping the blankets in place, settling into the passenger seat with the door open so his legs can dangle outside.

The soups is hot enough for him to simply hold it in his hands, soaking up the warmth as the cold air around him cools it down. There’s nothing to be done about the bland taste but he’s learned to stop caring since food is food, it’ll keep him alive another day so who cares about little things like that?

Shiro only shuts the door once he’s done eating, sitting with a slumped back and feet digging into the car mat. His gaze flits up to the rearview mirror, watching Keith finish off the rest of his soup with loud gulps before wiping off the excess liquid from his lips.

Their eyes lock and Keith raises an eyebrow, a twist to his mouth showing his displeasure.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“I’ll be fine.” Shiro answers.

“That’s not what I asked.”

A sigh leaves his lips, closing his eyes and leaning against his seat. “There were no other blankets, Keith, so don’t even think about sparing one of your own.” He shifts to get comfortable and repeats himself. “I’ll be fine.”

Keith’s response comes in a low voice. “Come back here with me.”

His eyes fly open in surprise, twisting back to look at him. Keith already has one arm extended as if to display the space where Shiro should go with an expression that’s pure stubbornness, one that Shiro has grown used to. He gives in with another sigh, climbing into the backseat to sit beside Keith.

The blankets only fit around the two of them as long as they’re pressed close together, leaving Shiro unsure if he’s trembling from the cold or from being near Keith. 

“Is this okay?” he asks as their knees bump. “Are you comfortable?”

“I’m fine,” says Keith with a tiny quirk to his lips. “Better now since you’re like a big heater.”

“After all this time the truth finally comes out. I knew you only liked me for my body.” Shiro revels in the huff of laughter that Keith releases.

As the sky grows darker the snowfall seems to get heavier, bringing much colder temperatures even in the vehicle. The suggestion to share body heat—without the removal of their clothes—leaves his mouth when Keith keeps shivering, feeling no regret over it when he spots Keith’s relieved look.

Shiro gets ready to wrap an arm around him to pull him closer and is completely unprepared for Keith to slide into his lap, head resting against his shoulder like he belongs there. Stunned, he does nothing for several seconds while Keith shifts around. His hands move on autopilot, fixing the blankets so they continue to cover them and then carefully wrapping an arm around Keith.

He can’t help but think about how  _ nice  _ their closeness is. 

It’s not because of the feelings he holds for Keith. He’s glad that Keith sees him as a close enough friend to be able to do this so freely.

At his community, when they first met, he never could have imagined to have Keith sitting on his lap of his own accord. Back then, just getting a conversation with him and befriending him were his only goals and now he gets this along with all the smiles and laughs that cause a flutter in his heart.

Oh, how far they have come.

_ Honestly, _ Shiro thinks as he wraps his other arm around him.  _ I’m just happy to have him in my life. _

A chill settles in his right arm where the skin meets metal, creating a familiar ache that he had to force himself to get used to. It’s not as bad as when he first got his prosthetic and that’s something he always feels grateful for. The warmth he shares with Keith does soothe it somewhat, bringing it down to a dull throb that beats in time with his breaths.

Shiro turns his head so he can stare at the snow drifting across the window, metal fingers flexing about Keith’s hip as he adjusts his grip a bit. 

Keith releases a sigh that sounds content and, after a few more moments of nothing, he guesses that the other must have drifted off to sleep and ends up feeling surprised when he’s proven wrong.

“Hey,” Keith mumbles, sounding half-asleep. He might have been on his way there. “Promise you won’t tell the others what happened?”

“I can’t keep it to myself,” Shiro replies with a shake of his head. “If they ask about the car then I can’t lie to them, Keith. Also, what about you? Do you plan on going back to your room and treating your wound on your own?”

Keith shifts a bit, cheek rubbing along his shoulder. Shiro knows it’s only to get comfortable but he feels his cheeks grow warm at the motion. “You’ll help me,” Keith says simply, like he’s already seen the future and now knows it to be true. “Please? Do it for me?”

_ Or maybe he just knows me too well, _ Shiro thinks as he peers down at him, growing weak at the sight of his sad eyes. “Fine,” he ends up grumbling, pacified by the small smile Keith wears. “Only because you asked nicely.”

“Thanks, Takashi,” Keith says in a soft tone. “You’re the best.”

“Oh, am I?”

“It’s the blood loss, I swear.”

“Go to sleep, Keith. I’ll be here.”

☆ ☆ ☆

They end up leaving in the morning.

Before they do so, Shiro goes through all of the suitcases for any wrapped or canned foods that are still good for a while. He stuffs the food into one of the large bags found in the van after dumping out the contents to do so. He also adds in the soups they got from earlier so he can lighten their loads, taking more out of Keith’s so he won’t have to strain himself as much.

He offers to check on Keith’s wound as well, only to be waved away with the claim that Keith already checked and placed new gauze on it while Shiro had been busy. Accepting this truth, and also shown to him by Keith pulling his shirt aside as if he felt the need to prove it.

Snow still falls as they finally start walking but it’s light enough to allow them passage, the two of them slowly trudging through it in silence.

Keith hasn’t been receptive to his attempts at conversation, strangely quiet and always nodding his head whenever Shiro asks if he’s okay. Unsurprisingly, he worries but keeps it to himself so he won’t bother his friend too much.

Maybe he’s overreacting. They did spend the night in a van, after all, so maybe Keith is simply tired from the lack of rest he’d gotten—which was a few hours at best, and Shiro only knows this because he chose to stay up to keep an eye on him.

The cabin comes into view after about another hour of walking. Shiro takes off into a run with Keith right behind him, skidding to a stop at the door and knocking five times. 

It opens not a second later and he’s immediately pulled into a crushing hug. He swears he can feel his bones shift from the strength of it, containing his wince as he pats Allura with his free hand.

“Sorry we took so long,” he says once they break free, passing the bag to her. “We, uh, weren’t able to make it back with the car.”

“It’s good to see that you’re both still alive, not that we doubted for a moment that you weren’t.” Allura’s bright eyes look to Keith next and she steps closer, extending her arms. “You deserve one too, Keith, don’t think that you’re getting out of it.”

Keith doesn’t move.

In fact, he doesn’t even seem to realize that Allura is there—staring down at the floor with a hand on his shoulder. He only lifts his head when Shiro nudges his arm, blank-faced as he looks at Shiro. The reaction sets off all the alarms in his head, concern making a return in-full-force. Keith looks to the cabin next with something akin to surprise on his face.

“Oh,” he says in a faint voice. “We’re here.”

And then his eyes abruptly roll back into his head just before he collapses.

☆ ☆ ☆

Keith doesn’t wake up until two hours have passed, looking so out of it and already running a small fever. When Coran tries to give him the medicine for it he refuses, only swallowing it down when Shiro’s the one who offers instead.

He also manages a few spoonfuls of soup and half a water bottle before drifting off, leaving them all worried for him.

Shiro takes a quick nap, enforced by Pidge and Coran when they saw how tired he was, and wakes up less than forty minutes later. He decides to prepare some soup for Hunk and Lance when he hears them chattering to each other, cracking the instant ice packs and placing them on the back of their necks while they eat.

Allura is also down for the count, already starting to cough after she said she felt a tickle in her throat that morning. Shiro, Pidge, and Coran have to divide their time between four sick people for the rest of the day and well into the night, taking turns with their sleeping breaks.

Things get harder when it seems like Keith got worse overnight, not waking up the next morning and shivering in his sleep despite the blanket he had wrapped around himself. The medicine he took didn’t help at all, apparently, since his fever was much higher than before.

“What else could be wrong?” Coran mutters beside him, trying to keep the ice pack in place on Keith’s forehead. “These aren’t the same symptoms the other two had so what is it?”

Shiro shrugs, rolling his shoulders back at the soreness he feels. The movement brings a thought back in his head and he nearly smacks himself at the realization, feeling like an idiot because he forgot something this important.

“Actually,” Shiro says quietly. “I think I know what’s wrong.”

“Please share.”

A quick glance at Keith’s form tells him that he’s still dead to the world (not literally, not ever).  _ Sorry Keith, _ he thinks and looks at Coran. “He got hurt on our run, a big cut to the shoulder, and the blade the person used looked pretty dirty. Maybe it’s infected?”

Coran looks alarmed.

He points at Keith’s right one. “It was only bleeding and we sort of patched it up in the car we stayed in but…”

Shiro’s pushed towards the door before he can say anything else, Coran looking apologetic once he’s shoved gently into the hall. 

“Sorry, Shiro, but I can’t have you around while I check it out. I’m down to my last pair of gloves.” Coran says, leaning out further to call for Pidge before shutting the door.

With nothing else to do, guilt churning in his stomach, he goes downstairs to sit on the couch; taking in the quiet cabin and frowning as the worry starts to pile up, thoughts racing.

_ If you hadn’t kept it from them like Keith asked you to then he would probably be okay. _

_ But you did sort of promise him that you’d keep it to yourself. _

Shiro continues to argue with himself, arms crossed as he stares at the wall. He spends so much time doing this that he doesn’t even realize someone is next to him until they wave a hand in front of his face, causing him to look their way. 

Their features are blurry for a second, like he’s just woken up, so he shakes his head to clear it, blinking in surprise when he sees that it’s Pidge.

“Pidge?”

She looks relieved. 

_ How long has she been here?  _

“Thank god you finally responded to me.” She scribbles something down on the pad of paper in her lap, ripping it off and handing it over to him. “You need to go out and get this for Keith, antibiotics, and you need to go out there right  _ now. _ ”

He blinks. “What?”

“Go to the pharmacy nearby, run if you can, and get these antibiotics for Keith.” Pidge’s eyes start to get watery and she wipes at them fiercely with her sleeves, staring at him pleadingly. “If you don’t get them then I don’t know what’ll happen to him. Coran says it doesn’t look too bad right now but it could get worse. We don’t have what we need on hand to start making it better so  _ go. _ ”

Shiro stands when the words registers and she sags with relief, obviously overcome with her worry for Keith. He walks over to his backpack that had been resting on the wall, scooping it up with ease (someone must have taken out the food he had inside).

Turning to face Pidge again, Shiro tries to smile while the guilt makes his stomach turn once again. “Keith will be fine, okay?” he reassures with firm belief. “He’s a fighter.”

He spots one tear slide down her cheek before she ducks her head. “I know,” Pidge says with a faint shake to her voice. It grows stronger when she looks up at him, the smallest curve to her lips showcasing her teasing. “Because you’ll be the one doing this.”

Shiro doesn’t even reply to that. He knows it’s the truth. “Four knocks?”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to tell everyone in a bit.” She opens the door for him and nods. “Be safe.”

A cold gust of air blows inside and he steps quickly to prevent the chill from entering the cabin. He zips his jacket up and stuffs his hands into the pockets of it, gripping the paper tight in his left hand, and starts striding towards the path that leads into town.

Keith is counting on him now.

☆ ☆ ☆

Awareness trickles in slowly.

He’s on something hard, the chill of it telling Shiro that it’s the floor. When he shifts there’s a brief spike of pain on the side of his head and he holds his breath as he waits for it to pass, exhaling when it fades into a dull throb that’s tolerable enough. 

Shiro pushes himself up slowly and looks around the room he’s in, trying to figure out where he could be. He sees nothing but darkness and thinks that it might be fake, his imagination playing tricks on him, and he rubs his eyes to try and clear it away.

Nope, real.

Where the hell is he?

His first instinct is to call out the names of his friends, thinking that this must be some kind of joke they’re playing on him, when the memory of what happened rushes in fast enough to make him gasp.

Shiro had been in the pharmacy, back stupidly turned as he placed the only bottle of untouched antibiotics into his bag, when he got hit with enough force to send him sprawling. Dazed, he hadn’t even gotten the chance to look at his attacker when he’d been hit again, this time knocking him out. 

Based on that and the unfamiliar surroundings, Shiro feels that it’s safe to assume that he’s been taken by whoever attacked him.

_ But why? _

There’s a lack of weight on his shoulders, indicating that his backpack is missing. Nothing is tied around his wrists or legs to keep him there so he stands up and starts making his way forward, hands extended to feel for any obstacles in his way.

Panic starts to bleed through his mind, forcing him to stop and take a few deep breaths to quell it. 

He needs to get out of this room, find his backpack with the antibiotics, and escape whatever building he’s in without being discovered by his kidnapper. It doesn’t really form the plan he desires but he’s in a place where he has no advantage at all, the elements around him are a big unknown on his radar and all he can really do is find the strength to do it.

Keith comes to mind next, an image of his face that Shiro spent so long tracing and memorizing with his eyes, and that’s what helps push him forward until his hands find a doorknob. He smiles to himself, pleased, but that quickly slides away when he feels it start to turn in his loose grasp.

The door opens after he’s stepped back far away enough to not be seen.

Light streams inside, shining on the spot he was resting and creating shadowed shapes in the farther ends of the room. Shiro finds himself crouching down, holding his breath as he wildly feels around for something that might help him. Just as someone steps in, eerily silent, his fingers catch on what feels like a glass shard. 

Shiro curls his hand around it and launches himself in the direction of the door, wrapping an arm around them and tugging back to drag them down to the floor of the room and turning them onto their back. 

They’re wearing a mask and a patchy robe, similar the to style of the people who attacked him and Keith not too long ago. It just fuels him to drive the shard into where their throat should be, repeating the action several more times and only stopping when he hears a wet gurgle. 

Keeping the glass shard with him, Shiro gets up and leaves the room without checking to see if they’re alive or not. He closes the door behind him and feels his lips twitch at the thought of the next person who enters getting a surprise they would never have expected.

Shiro starts to slowly walk down the hallway, not wanting to alert whoever else may be in this building with loud, running steps. 

He eventually comes across a half-open door and sees nowhere else to go but there. Shiro waits outside so he can listen for any indication that someone’s in that room, only entering when he hears nothing. 

Different kitchen appliances are scattered all around the room, pushed up against the wall to make enough space between them and the silver table in the middle of it. With no one in sight, Shiro walks into the room and is treated to the strangest sight.

There is someone strapped to the table.

Shiro is by their side in an instant to get them out of those cuffs and stops at the sight of blood.

It’s dripping off the table, and Shiro doesn’t know how he missed the sound of it when it’s so loud in the quiet room, paired with shallow breathing. This is not what shocks him, though—the sight of missing legs is what keeps him in place, a butcher knife right next to where they used to be.

His gaze trails up to their face and he’s startled to realize that they’re staring back at him, the dead set to their eyes making this situation a lot more horrifying.

Their lips move.

He fights the urge to move away, swallowing down his fear and leaning in closer to catch whatever they’re saying. Maybe they’ll ask Shiro to free them and help them escape, get them the help they need (somehow) so they can—

“Kill me.”

Shiro jumps away and stares at them with wide eyes, shaking his head. “I can’t do that.”

Their look of anguish is something he’ll never forget, face crumpling in on itself as their wrists jerk against the restraints. 

“Please,” they whisper hoarsely and Shiro stares at the tears that spill from their eyes. “ _ Please  _ kill me, I can’t live like this. They’ll keep me here until they can get every last piece of meat from me.  _ It doesn’t go bad when you’re alive, _ they say.” They close their eyes and breath out a sob that’s pure grief. “They did the same thing to my friends.”

“Meat?” Shiro whispers shakily. “Does that mean they’re—”

“Eating people.”

His stomach churns harshly and Shiro feels like he might throw up. He actually has to take a few deep breaths to prevent it from happening, turned away from them so he won’t be reminded of it again. 

“Is there a way out of here?” he asks, staring at the far wall.

“The only way out is making sure they don’t follow after you.”

There’s regret in that statement, the kind that tells Shiro more than what has been said. 

He finally turns back towards the person who gazes back at him pleadingly. While it’s vastly different, Shiro can’t help but remember the time when he lost his arm, how the pain was too much for him and no matter how loud he screamed he knew there was no one around to hear. He begged for death back then, looking up at the stars and praying to whatever entity up there to just let him die. 

So, Shiro nods and looks around the room. There’s a small knife resting on the stove and he grabs that to use, gripping the handle with his bionic hand and saying nothing until he’s holding their head with the other one. He meets their gaze and whispers a sad, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” they reply with a smile. “Thank you.”

Wanting to make it quick, Shiro shoves the blade into their side of their head without warning and breathes out harshly when they go limp. He yanks the knife out and lets it fall to the floor before scanning the room for anything else he can use as a weapon for his escape, pointedly not looking at the body.

Just when he’s decided on a standard kitchen knife, there’s a noise from far away. It’s not that loud but the more Shiro listens to the pace of it, the easier it is to identify.

_ Footsteps. _

Shiro hides in-between two of the appliances in the room right when a hooded person enters the room.

They don’t seem to notice anything amiss and stride towards the body on the table. Shiro takes his chance when they pause, presumably at the sight of the now dead body, and rolls out of his hiding spot. He hops up and shoves the knife in their chest when they turn towards him with a surprised sound, quickly pulling it out and moving to their throat next so they won’t be able to call for help.

Even with the hood of their robe shadowing their face, Shiro can still see their wide eyes as they stare up at him. He reaches up and wildly feels around for the knife he used earlier, yanking it out of the cooling corpse to jam it into the forehead of the person beneath him.

He pulls the knives out and wipes them off on the robes, tucking one away in his back pocket when he stands and keeping the other in his hand. Shiro doesn’t let himself think about what he just did, heading to the door opposite to the one he entered.

“Let’s do this,” he mutters to himself before he opens it.

☆ ☆ ☆

The building he’s in must be some type of house.

A large one.

There’s a lack of masked or robed people as he silently makes his way down the halls, something that should probably concern him more but all he does is grip the knife tighter. He trusts that he can easily take out anyone he bumps into.

As he moves along he opens up every door he encounters. Some lead into empty bedrooms, all dusty like no one had been there for a while but fully furnished and decorated in the way that told him someone used to. There are others that give no indication to what they were before, either full of junk haphazardly tossed in there or barren like nobody had enough energy to care enough to fill it.

Going upstairs gives him the same results but the third floor is where he hits the jackpot.

Behind the door closest to the stairs, he finds a room that contains many tables that have different items lined along the top of them. There’s one dedicated to shoes, another to flashlights, another to watches, and so on.

Shiro’s gaze flits over every table so he can spot any sign of his backpack, finding it on the floor beside the table full of weapons. It still has everything in it when he checks, even the bottle of antibiotics, so he quickly shoulders it so he can leave.

A pistol with a silencer catches his eye.

He takes it without a second thought because he knows that he won’t win a fight with just two knives on his person, depending on how many people happen to be in this building.

It still has everything in it, thankfully, so he quickly picks it up and shoulders it so he can leave.

The pistol with the silencer attached to it catches his eye.

Shiro takes it without a second thought, nodding in satisfaction when he confirms that it’s fully loaded.

He turns, ready to leave, and nearly jumps in surprise at the sight of two masked people standing at the doorway. Shiro doesn’t let that stop him from raising the gun, pointing it in their direction with narrowed eyes. 

“You won’t kill us.” The one on the right says, completely at ease. He makes sure to line up his shot where their forehead should be, a quick death. “That’s why we don’t fear you.”

The condescending tone makes his lips curl, cocking his head as he stares at the blank mask. He gives no warning when he squeezes the trigger and turns his gaze onto the one remaining as the first body falls, firing a second time.

“Looks like you were wrong,” he says quietly.

Shiro pulls the bodies into the room and leaves them on the floor for someone else to deal with, shutting it behind him and leaving it behind. He doesn’t dare look into anymore rooms and moves at a quick pace, almost missing one that has no door.

Warily poking his head in, Shiro is surprised to see that no one is inside. He takes a few steps in and feels excitement course through him when he notices the double door at the far end.

A voice stops him in place as he’s walking towards his potential escape, coming from behind him and speaking with smug sureness, “If you think you’ll be able to get out of here, you’re wrong.”

Tucking his gun away in his back pocket and turning towards the speaker, Shiro sees a woman sitting on a throne-like chair that’s pushed up against the wall—which is probably how he missed her.

Her platinum hair falls down messily along the sides of her face, the hacked off pieces here and there making it stick out more than it should. Jagged pink scars trail from her eyes to her mouth, dark eyes regarding Shiro with contempt. Her robes are closer to purple than black, unlike the rest he’s seen, and she’s obviously unafraid to show herself.

Unease settles in his gut. 

He does not let it hold him back.

“Who are you? What do you mean by that?” Shiro asks.

“I am Haggar,” she answers, speaking in a way that makes him feel as though he were inferior. “I only tell you my name because you will die with it after we’ve gone through you.” Haggar tilts her head. “You are not the first person to try and escape and you certainly won’t be the last but go right ahead, really.”

He doesn’t move.

“You can leave,” Haggar says with an exaggerated gesture towards the door. “I won’t stop you and my Druids will leave you alone as well.” 

Shiro licks his lips. “The catch?” he questions, narrowing his eyes.

Her face shifts to a wickedness that sends shivers down his spine, hair standing up on the back of his neck. “The hunt will begin the moment you step outside.” she informs him with a wide grin. “You’ll be chased until you drop and even if you make it off this mansion we’ll still follow you, all the way back to your little cabin.”

Shiro feels his insides turn to ice. “What?”

“Did you really think that you were safe out there?” Haggar looks so delighted. “The moment you and your group entered our territory we started watching you, waiting for the perfect time to strike. We didn’t move in right away because we wanted to learn you, figure out how we can pick you off one by one.” Her mouth twists into a scowl. “Then some of you fell ill and, well, that makes the meat taste bad.”

Anger starts to pool in his gut, sending it rushing through his veins and burning out the fear he was starting to feel at her words. He glares at her and asks through gritted teeth, “Why us? What’s the point?”

“Everyone has to survive somehow,” she responds with a wave of her hand, leaning back in her chair.

“So you decided to  _ eat _ people?” He can’t keep the disgust out of his voice.

“There are plenty of survivors in this world, all of them doing their best to stay alive another day.” Haggar says uncaringly. “At least _ here _ they serve a purpose. We deserve to live, and their lives fuel that.” Haggar points at him with a long, crooked finger. “That means you as well.”

Even with her eyes on him, assessing him, he’s still able to move a hand back and curl it around the pistol’s handle. 

“You’re sick,” he spits out and takes a step closer. “All of you deserve death.”

“Such words coming from our next meal,” Haggar says while leaning forward. “Maybe we should save you for last and start off with the rest of your friends. You’re closest to the one in red, aren’t you?” She gains a thoughtful look. “Not a lot of meat on him, sure, but that just means we can finish him off quick and use his bones for toothpicks.”

Shiro pulls the gun out, aims, and fires. 

The look of shock on her face is something that’s going to be seared into his memory, paired with the immense satisfaction of seeing her body collapse—dead.

His head turns towards the door, staring at his way out.

_ Are they already out there? Is that why this building was practically empty? How many people are left in this weird group? Will they still come after us even though I killed Haggar? _

Anger still simmers beneath his skin, protectiveness starting to mix with it.

It’s possible that these  _ monsters _ will continue with their disturbing ways despite having no one to lead them. Shiro doesn’t think that they’ll stop at his group if they somehow managed to tear through himself and the rest. These people seem firm in their belief that what they’re doing is good for them and they seem to have been doing it for a long time, judging by the way Haggar spoke and the person they had strapped to that silver table.

Here he is, deciding whether they get to live or die like some kind of god. Except, they don’t really deserve to live, do they? Not after killing however many people to get to this point, not with the threat of having his own friends being in the same position, slowly being cut up, piece by piece, and knowing that you’re being used for food.

Shiro takes a deep breath and tightens the hold he has on his gun.

If he runs out of bullets then he can always use those knives.

☆ ☆ ☆

He doesn’t know how he got back to the cabin.

It was honestly a blur to him, from the moment he got into the car after leaving that mansion to parking on the side of his current home. Shiro stares at his hands still wrapped around the steering wheel, the blood not as bright as when it first got there. It’s not as noticeable on his metal hand as it is on his flesh hand but it’s still there, practically mocking him with its presence.

Shiro turns off the car and opens the door so he can shove them into the snow, not caring about the cold and just smearing it all over them until the obvious spots are gone and the white has been stained pink.

He stares at them again and curls them into fists while breathing in slowly. Shiro counts up to ten in his head and exhales when he reaches the final number, tension draining away as he releases one finger with each one. He repeats this action several times until he decides he’s ready to go in, scattering snow across the part he just dirtied before grabbing his backpack from the back seat.

Hunk is the one who opens the door after he knocks four times, eyes wide and body still before he sags against it. “You’re alive,” he says, relief obvious in his voice. “We were starting to get worried. Keith, especially.”

“I haven’t been gone long, have I?” Shiro asks as he steps inside, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. Then the second part registers. “Wait, Keith? He hasn’t been resting?”

“Only a day and a half, I think. It’s hard to keep track out here.” Hunk shuts the door behind them and beckons for him to follow, leading the way upstairs. He looks a bit shaky when they get to the top.

Shiro puts a hand on his back. “You okay?”

“I still get a bit tired after walking too much, this sickness was rough.” Hunk breathes in deeply and smiles when he stands up straight. “I’m fine, though. Don’t worry about me, save all that for your boy.”

“He’s not my—” Shiro cuts himself off and sighs, matching Hunk’s slow pace towards Keith’s room and asking, “Is he okay?”

Hunk shrugs. “We think he was just too worried about you to even consider resting. His fever got pretty bad so we’ve been alternating between the ice packs and a cold cloth—the snow outside helped with that one—but it’s only a temporary solution.” Hunk speaks in a quieter tone. “The cut on his shoulder has gotten pretty red, too, but the antibiotics should start fixing all of that up.”

They stand outside Keith’s door and Hunk gives him a look that Shiro can’t decipher, reaching out to pat his arm as he says, “Welcome back, Shiro, and good luck trying to get him to sleep.” He leaves after that with one final pat, entering his own room and leaving Shiro alone in the hallway.

Shiro doesn’t linger and opens the door, eyes locking onto Keith’s frown once he steps inside.

“You need to sleep,” Coran is saying, exasperation clear in his voice. “Shiro will be here soon and he won’t like it when he finds out that you haven’t gotten  _ any _ rest since he left.”

“He’s right,” Shiro says as he walks closer to the bed, placing his backpack on the floor and fixing a stern look onto his face. “Which means you’re going to have to stay in bed for so many days after this  _ and _ you’ll have to deal with my hovering.”

Keith doesn’t even protest to that, which tells Shiro that he must be pretty sick since he’s used to him arguing over that plenty of times before, and lights up at the sight of Shiro. “You’re here!” he exclaims, pushing himself up onto his knees and shuffling forward.

Shiro catches him before he can fall forward. “I’m here,” he repeats with amusement and twitches in surprise when he feels arms wrap around him. “And you’re in trouble.”

“You’re here,” Keith says again, looking like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

“I’m going to go nap!” Coran suddenly says and Shiro actually jumps, forgetting that the other man was in the room with them. “I’m glad you’re safe, Shiro, but  _ please _ get him to sleep after one pill. He had some soup before you arrived so you don’t need to worry about that part.”

Coran pats his back as he walks past him, yawning loud enough for Shiro to cringe. He turns his attention back to Keith once the door closes, leaning back so he’s able to scrutinize him.

Keith still has that tiny smile, peering up at him with flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. The sweat lining his brow causes his bangs to awkwardly stick to his forehead but he doesn’t seem too concerned about it. His jeans have been swapped out for lavender colored pajama bottoms while his shirt remains the same, a dark red hoodie slipping down his biceps.

It’s a side to Keith that Shiro has never seen before, vulnerable and needy for contact judging by the way he keeps trying to sway towards Shiro again.

“Come on, Keith.” he murmurs, gently pushing him back on the bed. “Time to take your medicine.”

Shiro sits down beside him and digs through his backpack to pull out the bottle of antibiotics. He grabs the water bottle that’s resting on the small drawer beside the bed and holds it out to Keith, who takes it along with the pill he shakes out onto his palm. Keith downs it without complaint and even chugs down some more water, handing it back with a quarter of it left.

“You should get some rest,” Shiro says. “You’re going to need it if you want to get better.”

“Only if you stay with me.”

“Keith…” Shiro warns. “I can’t do that because I know you’ll be distracted. You  _ need _ to sleep.”

“Please, Takashi?” Keith’s  _ pouting. _ “Please stay?”

Shiro is so weak.

He scoots closer to the edge of the bed when Keith curls up on his side, not wanting to take up a lot of space. Keith doesn’t look satisfied with this, though, and tugs on his arm.

“Sleep with me.” he says, and this time the pouting is paired with the saddest eyes he’s ever seen. 

Shiro wonders if the fever has gotten to his brain, making him act like this, and if he’ll remember it when he’s all better. Another tug breaks through those thoughts and he sighs, kicking off his boots so he can lie down next to him.

If he  _ does _ remember all of this then Shiro is in trouble—one look at that expression and he’ll be doing anything to get rid of it, falling to his knees to comply with his wishes.

Maybe it’s a little strange how Keith has such a strong hold over him when he’s known him for less than a year. Then, Shiro considers how well they know each other. With all that time spent together he thinks that it’s just the person who creates this reaction rather than his own feelings.

They probably play a role in this too, honestly.

Keith falls asleep easily after they’ve both settled down, Shiro running fingers through his hair and not stopping even when he’s sure that he’s deep in sleep. He doesn’t try to move from his spot, not even when people come in to check on them—waved away by Shiro who receives a lot of amused looks when they catch sight of their position.

He ignores them and focuses only on Keith.

When it gets darker, and he hears no more footsteps or creaking noises, he starts speaking in a whisper; the confession banging against the walls just for the chance to spill free, taking some of the weight off his shoulders when it does.

“I killed some people, Keith.”

Shiro stops for a moment as he thinks back on it, feeling himself start to shake a bit. He comes back to himself when Keith pushes up into his hand that stopped its ministrations for the moment, releasing a noise of complaint in his sleep and only relaxing again when Shiro continues doing it.

“They were going to kill me,  _ eat _ me, and then they planned on coming for the rest of you.” He keeps pushing through, voice wavering here and there. “I killed them so they wouldn’t take our friends, I killed them so they wouldn’t take  _ you. _ ”

Keith’s hand suddenly grips his shirt and the hold is strong enough to make him hold his breath, thinking that he’s woken him up. Shiro breathes out in relief after Keith lets go with the smallest sigh, heart skipping a beat when Keith nuzzles against his chest in his sleep.

“I don’t regret it,” he murmurs after a few seconds of silence. “But I won’t forget it.”

“Takashi.” Keith breathes out, almost unheard with how soft it was.

He shifts a bit so he can peek down at him, only seeing a serene face and closed eyes. Shiro couldn’t stop his smile even if he tried, brushing away some his hair with his other hand and tucking it behind his ear. “You’re gonna be okay, Keith.” he promises. “I’ll make sure of it.”

There’s no response, as expected, but when he leans down to press his lips to Keith’s forehead he swears he sees a smile.

☆ ☆ ☆

Keith slowly gets better.

He seems embarrassed over the fact that Shiro stayed with him when he was asleep but he doesn’t push him away either, so Shiro continues to do so even when Keith’s forced to stay in bed to get more rest. Keith also continues taking his antibiotics without needing to be reminded, claiming that it’s only because if he does then he’ll be out of bed sooner rather than later.

Shiro decides to not mention the incident with the cannibals unless asked about his outing and he’ll only do so if it’s Keith who asks, not wanting to relive it several times by explaining it to everyone. He wonders if Keith actually heard it all or has figured out that something is wrong because Shiro will often catch the hint of worry in his eyes whenever their gazes lock. 

He never asks, though, and Shiro is a bit grateful. 

Besides, they’re not a threat anymore so Shiro doesn’t want to bring unnecessary worry to the table.

Allura comes into Keith’s room one day, along with the rest of their group, and declares that they should have a Christmas celebration once she has captured everyone’s attention.

“But what about Keith?” Hunk asks quietly, eyes going from Allura to said person. “He still needs to rest.”

“So do you, Allura,” Shiro adds on. “You had the same flu as Hunk and Lance. Yours didn’t get as bad as theirs, you still need to rest.”

She simply waves a hand. “Thank you for your concern but I’ll be fine, we’ll have a week and a half to prepare so it should be plenty of time for Keith and I to get enough rest,” She suddenly claps her hands together, a bright smile on her face. “We can even do a Secret Santa exchange!”

There’s a tap on his arm and he looks over, drawn to the small smile that Keith wears. “I’ll be okay, Shiro.” Keith says. “I could take the car out so the walk won’t be too much, if I have to, or ask one of you to get the gift for me.”

Shiro nods to show his acceptance, silently hoping that they’ll have to pick the latter option, and receives a pat on the arm from Keith.

“Alright, then! Now we can start picking the names of who we’ll each be giving a gift to.” Allura looks around the room and brightens when Coran hands her a pad of paper before she turns away, hunched over the table to write on it.

“Will everyone be able to have someone other than themselves?” Shiro asks as she tears the sheet from the pad. “We kind of have an odd number here…”

“Of course!” Allura swipes the beanie off of Lance’s head and Shiro almost laughs at the expression on his face, as if she had just insulted his entire being rather than temporarily acquire his hat. She starts to carefully rip up the paper, seven small pieces falling into it. “We’ll do this one by one, alright? That way if you happen to pick yourself you can just put it back in and get a different one!”

She tells them to close their eyes when they reach in, waiting a few seconds afterwards in case they actually do get their name and moving on after a shake of their head. Coran seems to be the only one who got himself, doing so two more times before finally getting another person.

When it’s his turn he closes his eyes without being prompted, moving his hand around for a few seconds before finally grabbing one slip of paper between his fingers. Allura smiles brightly at him before moving on to Keith, who rolls his eyes while reaching inside.

He bends his head low as he opens up the small piece and ends up smiling at what he sees.

His slip of paper reads:  _ Keith. _

☆ ☆ ☆

They decorate the cabin in the days before the celebration, pinning up streamers and ribbons that Coran and Pidge found when they made a trip into town. 

Lance and Hunk also cut out snowflakes from notepad paper, taping them to the walls and windows and even managing to dangle them from the ceiling. Shiro has to stop Lance from scattering the confetti they attempted to create, pointing out that they would be the ones to clean it up.

There was some indignant grumbling from Lance, but at least he agreed not to do it.

Spirits are high when the festive feeling starts settling in, everyone smiling and singing Christmas songs from memory. Shiro swears he even heard Keith humming one, but it was met with denials when he asked about it.

The others start going out in pairs when it gets closer to the day they’ve decided upon for their celebration, wanting to spend enough time finding the perfect gift. 

Keith had to force him to go out and get the gift for his person, rolling his eyes when Shiro tried to stay. He even threatened to lock Shiro out of the room, stating that he’ll be fine since Coran will watch over him.

He goes into town with Pidge to go look in the Pawn Shop they discovered early on, left alone since they needed nothing from it. 

Shiro finds his gift for Keith pretty quick. He fishes around for something to put it in and then waits by the door for Pidge, examining a shelf. Eventually she moves, and he hears a loud clatter before she stands in front of him.

“What was that?” he asks as they step outside.

“Keith asked me to get a gift for his person, but didn’t specify what kind of item he wanted to give them, so I just took all of them.” Pidge shrugs. “He can’t exactly leave so I’ll bring the choices to him.”

Allura and Hunk head out the next morning, returning late afternoon with more decorations and food. Apparently they had taken the car and drove in the opposite direction Shiro went, looting the gas stations they discovered farther down the highway. 

The box of hot chocolate packets seemed to make everyone happy, along with the two gallons of water to be used for it. There was a bit of disappointment floating around when Allura denied them the chance to make some immediately, saying she’d rather save it for Christmas.

Even Shiro agreed with that.

“Too bad we don’t have candy canes.” Keith comments a couple of nights before the celebration. “I  _ love _ them. The regular ones are good but my favorite are the SweeTarts ones.”

“Let me guess, you always had the cherry ones.” Shiro remarks with a smile.

“How did you know?”

“You look like a cherry person.”

Keith huffs at that and mutters something that sounds like “how does that make any sense…” but still looks entirely amused, an expression that fades into something more nostalgic.

He speaks quietly, almost sadly, but the tiny smile on his face adds some lightness to his words, “Both my dad and sister used to get mad at my mom and me because we’d always eat the candy canes off the tree. We couldn’t resist! They were just too good! I don’t know how many boxes we went through during those Christmases...” 

When Keith falls silent after that, a furrow to his brow like he’s lost in those memories, Shiro decides to speak—lips twitching as he recalls the events. 

“My brother and I usually ruined the gingerbread houses. We’d have a contest every year. Whoever made the best looking one would get money from Obaasan,” Shiro lets out a laugh and shakes his head. “We’d always take little pieces of candy or cookie off now and then because it looked so tasty! Then on the day of the contest we had to stand there with our gingerbread houses falling apart and missing decorations. Neither of us felt any shame.”

It falls silent between them but there’s no sadness in the air, though Shiro gets a sense of longing when he sneaks a peek at Keith.

“It’s the little things you miss,” Keith says suddenly, gaze directed towards the ceiling. “The Harry Potter marathon that we always watched on TV, making cookies for Santa because my little sister still believed, and even getting dragged into singing Christmas carols in our living room.”

“Christmas carols, huh?” Shiro teases. “Gonna give us a show?”

Keith rolls his eyes. 

Shiro simply chuckles, staring down at his knees when he leans back in his chair. “I get that, I really do,” he says softly. “All of this is making me miss my family too, but not in a bad way.”

“They’re like family,” says Keith, and when Shiro glances over at him he catches a hint of pink spread across his cheeks. “That’s what makes it all better.”

When Shiro thinks about that statement he ends up smiling, completely agreeing. “Family,” he repeats, and nods. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

Silence falls after that and that’s when Keith yawns, rubbing his eyes. “I think I’ll sleep now,” he says, looking much more tired than before. Shyness is present on his face when he asks, “You’ll stay?”

He finds it absurd that Keith still thinks he has to, because— “Where else would I go?” Shiro counters lightly.

He receives a sleepy smile in response, full of warmth and happiness. Shiro’s heart  _ soars _ at the sight and he reaches out to grasp Keith’s hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles and not letting go even when Keith has fallen asleep.

☆ ☆ ☆

The day arrives with a flurry of excitement.

Allura decided that they’d exchange their gifts later in the night, so that way they could spend the rest of the day together.  _ As if they’d do anything else. _

Hunk declared that he would create a delicious meal with what they had.

“So it can  _ really _ feel like Christmas,” he claimed before shooing Shiro out of the kitchen. “Now, get out of here! No one’s allowed to stay until I’m done!”

It was a large made from canned food but that didn't matter to any of them. The fact that they were all sitting around a table, still alive and enjoying themselves, was what really made it perfect.

The dessert that Hunk made helped and he received many thanks for it. 

“Well, it’s only chocolate pudding,” Hunk wore a bashful smile. “It was all I could work with.”

Shiro and Keith locked eyes and released twin laughs, unable to give an explanation when Lance demanded one.

After their meal, the sun finally set and the stars slowly appearing in the sky, everyone was seated around the living room, chatting quietly amongst themselves as they waited for the go-ahead for the gift exchange. 

It was then that Shiro remembered one last thing.

“Does anyone want hot chocolate?” Shiro asks, and is immediately bombarded by a series of confirmations. He laughs when he stands up, hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll go make us some. All of you wait here, I can do it by myself.”

He leaves them to their chatter and heads into the kitchen, searching through the cabinets for a large pot. Setting it aside, he turns one stove knob sideways to release the gas before grabbing the lighter out of one drawer and setting it aflame after a few clicks. Once he’s sure that it’s going for good, and staying, he pours the water into the pot and delicately places it on the flames.

It’ll take some time for it to boil, he knows, so he grabs the mugs from a different cabinet and places them on the counter beside the stove.

The door opens when he's already taking the pot off and, when he glances over, he sees that it's Keith who came in.

“Need some help?” he asks, already pushing the sleeves of his red hoodie up.

"You don't have to,” Shiro replies, all of his focus going into carefully pouring the water into the mugs. “I can handle it on my own.” He follows up with the hot chocolate packets, only for three to be snatched away from him.

“Are you saying this because you still think I need to take it easy?” Keith pulls the same amount of mugs closer to him, tearing the packets open and mixing it together, leaving Shiro to deal with the rest. He continues a softer voice, as if wanting to reassure him, “I’m fine, Shiro. I really am, so stop worrying.” There’s a tiny smile on his face. “It’s Christmas.”

“That’s not going to take it away just like that,” he grumbles, smiling when Keith laughs.

They finish up in a comfortable silence, placing them on the counter and calling everyone in. Shiro stays behind with Keith for a moment, leaning against the island and blowing at his drink to cool it down enough to take a tentative sip.

He releases a content sigh at the warmth that trickles down his throat, closing his eyes and feeling as though it's spread to every part of him. 

“Good,” he confirms when he opens one eye to peek over at Keith, catching the curious glint to his gaze. “Better than expected, actually.”

Keith hums and lifts his own mug to take a sip, looking as pleased as he feels, and nods. They choose to linger for a few seconds more, trying their best to savor the hot chocolate, before walking out the kitchen door together.

“Mistletoe!”

Startling at the shout, Shiro nearly drops his mug and narrows his eyes at an apologetic Pidge. There’s a look in her eyes that spells trouble, though, so he doesn’t think she’s all that sorry. He nearly chastises her when the statement finally registers, looking up to see the plant dangling from the doorframe and feeling his cheeks go hot.

“What’s a mistletoe?”

Keith is staring up at it with a curious expression and Shiro swallows, mouth suddenly dry, and starts to explain—not looking at his so-called  _ friends _ (they’re the ones to blame for this, he knows).

“It’s a tradition of sorts, if you find yourself standing beneath one with another person then you have to kiss them.” Shiro stumbles over the word  _ kiss, _ unnoticed by Keith who only hums in response. Heat spreads across his cheeks when he continues, speaking quick to get it all out. “A kiss under it is supposed to mean a lasting friendship or a deep romance.”

Nothing else comes from Keith, who continues to gaze at the plant above them. Shiro looks over at Pidge and glares when he sees her laughing. All she does is grin back at him, offering a cheeky wave before heading back to the living room. He catches sight of the others hovering nearby before they also leave, sighing to himself when Lance shoots him double pistols and a wink.

A tug on his sleeve causes him to look over at Keith.

Breath hitching at the sight of his soft smile, he finds that he can’t even bother to try and drag his gaze away from him. His mug is taken from his hand and set aside on a small coffee table, and Shiro feels extremely nervous all of a sudden.

“We can’t break tradition,” Keith says, stepping closer to Shiro.

He holds himself still when Keith places a hand on his chest to lean up against him, eyes fluttering shut when he feels a puff of breath over his chin before lips press against his own.

_ They’re soft. _

It doesn’t go beyond that, probably only lasting seconds but feeling like a lifetime for Shiro. He wishes he could pull Keith closer and deepen the kiss, wants to hear him moan from something as simple as this. Would Keith makes those kind of noises? Does he even liked to be kissed that way?

His heart is racing along with his thoughts.

_ Even if I can’t have him, at least I had this. _

He tries to chase the feeling of soft lips as Keith pulls away, not wanting it to end, but manages to rein himself in when he becomes aware of his actions. Opening his eyes, he takes in Keith’s pink face and watches him open his own lashes, dark and beautiful as always. They stare at each other for a few moments longer until Keith ducks his head.

“Merry Christmas, Takashi.”

Keith’s voice is quiet but fond, and when he peeks up Shiro can see the gentle smile he wears. 

Shiro licks over his lips, still tingling from what just happened, and responds in the same tone, “Merry Christmas, Keith.”

☆ ☆ ☆

The gift exchange starts once everyone has finished their hot chocolates, fireplace lit up and adding to the perfect atmosphere that just screams  _ Christmas _ . It’s not the decorations or the gifts that formed it, it’s the way his friends are smiling all around him while they enjoy the time spent together.

It reminds him, again, of family—something he wants to hold on to.

“Alright, we’ll do this by order of height!” Coran exclaims, twirling around in the center of their circle before pointing at Pidge. “Starting from lowest to highest so that means you, number six!”

“I may be short, Coran, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass!” Pidge threatens, aiming a kick towards him. Coran easily hops out of the way and doesn’t stop pointing at her until she sighs and walks to the back of the couch to grab her gift. “You know what’s funny?” she says with an easy grin. “I actually got you, Coran. Maybe I should toss it into the snow.”

“Come on, Pidge, that’s not the Christmas spirit!” Lance crosses his arms, scoffing. “Everyone knows it’s better to toss it into the lake, that way it’ll freeze in the water which forces them to wait until spring to get it!”

“That’s too much work,” Pidge replies, handing a brown paper bag over to Coran while saying, “I hope you like it.”

“You could have probably given him a tree ornament and he would have loved it,” Allura comments with a laugh. “Everyone shouldn’t worry too much about whether their gifts are good or not, alright? We’re very limited out here, so it really is the thought that counts.”

Coran does actually love it, cradling the small tub of mustache wax close to his face and then pulling Pidge into a hug. There’s a bit of a pause where the man has to get himself together, wiping away his stray tears before moving on.

Shiro would find the reaction strange but considering how well he knows the man, it also makes sense.

Allura is next and she holds a thin box in her hands. She spins around in the center of the room, doing so for a few seconds before stopping in front of Pidge and handing the gift over. Pidge opens it with bright eyes and gasps as she pulls out a dark green jacket.

“I noticed your old one doesn’t zip up anymore so I decided to get you a new one!” Allura says, beaming. She claps her hands together and plops down in a chair beside Pidge. “It might be a tiny bit larger but I think it’ll be fine!”

Shiro grins when Pidge sets it aside to throw her arms around Allura, only for it to fade into concern when they both fall over. When they wave their hands to show that they’re okay he relaxes back against the couch.

“Here.” He hears Keith say suddenly and, before he can look over at him, a small, wrapped box is shoved into his hands.

Despite the fact that newspaper was used as wrapping, it looks perfect—like Keith spent so much time making sure it was right, and that’s the thought that makes him carefully unwrap it, not wanting to mess up all of Keith’s hard work.

The box beneath it is plain and brown but that doesn’t stop his excitement, surprise overcoming it at the sight of a black watch resting on top of what seems to be pillow stuffing.

“Now you don’t have to keep checking my watch for the time,” Keith says. He looks over at the man and takes in his pink cheeks and nervous look. “I thought this one suited you most out of all the ones Pidge brought back.”

He’s already taking it out and strapping it to his left wrist, directing a grin at Keith. “Hey,” he says as he raises his hand. “Wanna know what time it is?”

Keith shoves him, not hard enough to tip him over but Shiro still falls onto his side like it was, releasing peals of laughter. 

The weight of a watch is something that he missed. Time may be irrelevant in their current world but it doesn’t matter to him, because looking down to check it brings a small bit of normality to his life. He knows it’s unneeded, knows that it’s not actually accurate, and yet he still does it.

Having this small, private task makes Shiro feel more human. 

(And the fact that Keith gave him this watch makes it special.)

Lance stands up and loudly proclaims that he had gotten the best gift for his person, bowing as he presents two small objects wrapped in tissue paper to Allura. She lets out a delighted exclamation at what she sees when she tears it open—a switchblade and a leather bracelet with a crown charm dangling off it.

“I heard Coran call you princess a few times,” Lance admits when Allura asks about it, rubbing the back of his head. “So when I saw the bracelet I thought you would like it, not too flashy and not too simple. Also, switchblades are cool and having your own knife is even cooler.”

Allura looks touched, a hint of tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”

Next was Coran, who gave Hunk a pair of brown boots (something he needed since his old ones were close to falling apart). Then it was Hunk, who gave Lance a blue beanie (“My new favorite,” Lance says while tossing the other one aside to pull this one on. “I love you! Thanks!”). 

Finally, it was Shiro’s turn.

He moves the pillow away from the corner of the couch to reveal his gift, the item placed in a white envelope that he holds in his hands. Shiro shifts so he’s facing Keith and offers a small, nervous smile.

“I don’t even know if you like these kind of things,” Shiro admits sheepishly, handing it over to Keith. “But I saw it at the pawn shop and I thought it would suit you perfectly, so I couldn’t resist.”

Shiro watches Keith’s face as he opens it, the nerves coming back full force when he can’t read his expression at all—deliberately blank. Keith tilts the envelope towards his palm, shaking it and then curling his fingers around the object once it slides out.

“So,” Shiro asks as Keith starts inspecting it. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Keith says quietly, index finger stroking over the pendant. “Thank you, Shiro.”

Shiro smiles again, this time in relief. “You’re welcome.”

Keith looks over at him and then holds out the necklace. “Put it on for me?”

After Shiro takes it, Keith turns so his back is facing him. He even moves his hair up and keeps it in place while Shiro clasps the chain together. His fingers linger on the nape of his neck, lightly brushing across skin and forcing himself to pull back when he feels Keith shiver. 

Keith goes back to his original position, fiddling with the necklace even as he looks over at Shiro.

“How does it look?”

“Like I said,” Shiro says, eyeing the small, black knife. “It suits you.”

Keith’s fingers still on the pendant, expression thoughtful. “I’ll keep it beneath my shirt so it can stay safe.” He does exactly that, patting his chest. Shiro can see the shape of it through the shirt and smiles to himself, pleased that he really does like it. 

A realization hits him, and Shiro chuckles. 

“We got each other for this Secret Santa,” he says at Keith’s curious look. “What are the odds?”

Keith’s laugh is much quieter than his own but still nice to hear and  _ god  _ does Shiro love hearing it, especially when he’s the one who caused it to happen.

The others have fallen back into faint chatter, something he hadn’t noticed since he was so caught up in Keith. His gaze is drawn to the window and he gets an idea, not wanting this night to end just yet and needing to fulfill a promise.

“Let’s go build a snowman,” Shiro says, grasping Keith’s hand and pulling him towards the door.

He likes the fact that Keith trusts him enough to allow Shiro to do something as simple as that.

The expression Keith shoots in his direction is one he’ll never forget, happiness mixed with a type of softness that melts his insides. A hint of disbelief rests in his eyes, as if he can’t believe that Shiro remembered something he promised only days ago.

“You’ll have to teach me,” Keith says, and Shiro feels a pang of sadness when they have to let go so they both can tug on their boots and jackets. “If mine still turns out terrible you still have to compliment it like it’s the best one you’ve ever seen.

“I’ll try my best.” Shiro replies, waving at Allura as he opens the door.

“There’s no try, Shiro, only  _ do. _ ”

Shiro has to demonstrate how to build a snowman while Keith sits there and watches intently, obviously eager to get it right. He does help when Keith gives it a try and is waved away after a few moments, Keith telling him that he might have it.

Their building process is set aside when Keith throws some snow his way, causing a snowball fight to start between them. It only gets larger when the others come out of the cabin to join. Shiro swears he hasn’t laughed this much in so long and everyone else’s laughter filling the air alongside his own only makes it ten times better.

He gets snow down his shirt, courtesy of Lance, and retaliates by throwing one piece of his unfinished snowman at him. Keith is off to the side still trying to finish up his own, throwing large amounts of snow towards anyone that gets close to him.

They end this perfect night by creating their own snow angels, lined up next to each other while staring up at the stars.

☆ ☆ ☆

The next three days are spent in relaxation, everyone either sitting outside in the chairs they brought with them or outright playing in the snow again.

Shiro can’t stop the way his gaze keeps flitting over to Keith, unable to help himself. Keith has always been able to capture his attention so easily and he finds himself staring even more ever since their shared kiss under the mistletoe. He knows that everyone, besides Keith, has noticed.

It’s always embarrassing whenever Pidge outright grins at him or Lance waggles his eyebrows as he flicks his eyes to Keith and back. Allura and Coran smile like they’re amused by it all and all Hunk does is shake his head, though he swears he heard him laugh a few times when Lance decided to quietly tease him about it.

Something new happens on the fourth day. 

A voice comes from the trees when they're all starting to pack up to go inside, the sun setting and bringing much colder air as it gets closer to night.

“My, my, what a pleasant surprise.”

Everyone goes still and Shiro spins around, eyes narrowed in the direction it came from. Keith follows not a second after, he notices from the corner of his eye, except he's raising one of their guns this time. This action causes the rest to do the same and Shiro can't help but feel relief that they're still so prepared even when relaxing, keeping a firm hold on his pistol. 

No one speaks up and whoever else is near doesn't offer anything more, so Shiro takes a step forward and says, “Alright, we don't want any trouble so just come out and show yourself.”

Movement from one of the wider trees causes Shiro to automatically move his gun in that direction. A person steps away from their hiding spot and into view, looking at ease in spite of all the guns pointed in their direction.

Their white hair nearly blends in with the snow around them, similar to Allura’s except while hers is constantly up in a bun, this person’s hair is down and free. Dark eyes regard them all evenly, stark against their pale skin. A leather backpack dangles off one arm and their clothes are without tears, looking pristine with the lack of wear and tear like his own; a black leather jacket with a lilac shirt beneath it, white jeans tucked into black boots.

Shiro thinks they look very out of place.

The silence after is heavy enough for him to feel the weight on his shoulders. Shiro decides to speak up again, breaking their little standoff so he can have his questions answered before anything happens.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

He’s ignored.

“Is this how you’re going to greet an old friend, darling?” they say instead of answering, speaking with a curve to his lips. “Have you forgotten your manners? Considering the people you associate with now, it's not that hard to believe.” 

When Shiro looks at all of his friends he can see that they’re just as confused as he is. This stranger speaks as though he were speaking to someone he knew but, as far as Shiro can tell, none of his friends know them. 

That is, until he hears Keith groan.

“Keith? Mind introducing us?”

He catches Keith’s grimace at the question but knows he’ll answer it, only because it was Pidge who asked. 

“He’s my ex, Lotor, so it doesn’t matter.” Keith says, letting go of his assault rifle. The strap along his shoulder prevents it from falling to the ground, continuing with a scowl, “ _ He _ doesn’t matter.”

“You wound me, my dear.”

It’s quiet for a long moment, only broken by various exclamations of surprise. Keith isn’t looking at anyone but Lotor’s gaze is fixed on Keith, wearing a strange smile on his face. Shiro can’t detect what it holds.

He has to force his finger away from the trigger.

“Nice to meet you,” Shiro forces out, cutting off everyone’s questions directed at Keith and plastering on a smile. 

Keith scoffs beside him. “It’s not nice to meet him. At all.”

Lotor laughs. “You love me.”

“I  _ don’t. _ ”

“That’s not what you used to say.”

The only response Keith gives is a sigh.

Shiro is really trying his hardest to not shoot the guy. “Why are you here?” he asks, actually gaining Lotor’s attention this time. “Are you looking for something? Do you want anything?”

“There is something I want… but sadly I can’t have it right now,” He goes back to looking at Keith. “I’m here because I’m a bit lost. I heard you all talking from the trees. I’d be very grateful if you allowed me to stay for a while.”

“How long is a while?” Shiro prods.

“Until I’m well enough to head out on my own again,” Lotor looks up at the sky. His smile hasn’t disappeared. “Or until the snow stops, it looks like there will be a storm coming.”

He flicks his eyes up so he can confirm it himself, the dark grey clouds looking ominous above them. His gaze goes to the others afterwards, trying to gauge if they’ll agree to this or not based on their reactions. Shiro doesn’t get to say anything because Keith suddenly speaks up, in a tone so icy that it makes him seem like a completely different person.

“If you do  _ anything _ out of line then I’ll finish it this time.”

It may be vague but Shiro can get the gist of his statement. He wonders what Lotor did to garner such a reaction from Keith. It must have been something pretty awful since Keith is only doing what he can to survive, never stepping outside the parameters he’s set for himself.

Lotor seems to be amused. “I don’t doubt it.”

Keith scowls once more and then turns to Shiro, offering a nod before heading back to his original spot. He grabs the chair he brought out and heads into the cabin. The door doesn’t quite slam behind him but it’s loud enough to make him wince.

He turns his attention back to Lotor who seems to be waiting patiently. At Shiro’s nod, everyone lowers their weapons and that’s when the man starts moving.

As he walks closer he catches sight of a scar on his face. It’s diagonal, starting above his eyebrow, going across his left eye, and finishing at his ear. Lotor’s eyes suddenly snap to his own and he can see them flicking all over his face, as if expecting him to be staring, before he  _ grins. _

“Did he get to you too?”

Shiro blinks. “Excuse me?”

“The scar on your face,” Lotor gestures from his own to Shiro’s and then points at the cabin door. “Was he the one who did that?”

“No? I got this—” He cuts himself off and narrows his eyes. “Are you implying that Keith gave you that one?”

“I’m not implying it, I’m outright saying it.”

Here is when he allows himself to smile, enjoying the confusion in Lotor’s eyes. “Maybe you deserved it,” he says and looks to the others, who have settled back down in their chairs and are apparently deciding to stay out for longer. “I can show you the inside of our cabin and give you one of the empty rooms we have  _ or _ you can stay outside with the rest of us.”

“You’re all going to be out here, right?” Lotor hums, index finger tapping against his cheek. “I don’t feel like being alone right now so I’ll stay with the rest of you.”

Shiro gestures in their direction, not wanting to walk ahead of Lotor. “Suit yourself.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Keith is tense, and remains so, as the days slip on by.

Lotor is definitely _ not _ part of the group and doesn’t even try to include himself beyond sitting together for meals. He does help by bringing in some firewood when it starts getting colder, an edge to his smile as he deposits them on the floor and says, casually, to Keith.

“Just like before, right?” 

All he got was a glare.

There’s no New Year's celebration, all of them simply appreciating the fact that they made it through another year. They finish up the rest of the hot chocolate while they do this, sitting in a similar circle to their gift exchange while the fireplace roars.

A storm doesn’t actually arrive but there is too much snowfall to venture out, which means they have to start being mindful of their food again until they’re able to. Soup seems to be the only thing they can eat right now, since they have so much of it, so there’s not too much worry.

Everyone does snag the chance to go outside when it starts to lighten up. It’s so they won’t feel so cooped up and Shiro completely agrees with the sentiment, sitting on one of the chairs while Pidge, Hunk, and Lance chase each other around. 

Shiro has a bit of a panic when he no longer sees Keith with them all, and it only diminishes when he's told by Pidge that he went back inside.

He finds Keith by one of the larger windows upstairs and offers a soft greeting, frowning when he doesn't receive one in return. Shiro doesn't say anything about it, standing beside him and taking care to stay a bit farther away.

“You here to ask about Lotor as well?” Keith asks, sounding tired.

That’s… not what he expected, so his puzzled tone is completely real. “Has everyone else?”

“I didn’t bother answering when they tried. Lance was the only one who wouldn’t stop pestering,” Keith smirks, faint but there. “So I punched him.”

Ah, so that’s what Lance was complaining about the other day.

“Do you want to talk about him?” Shiro offers the opening. As much as he’d actually like to know about Keith’s past with this Lotor guy, he knows that it’s not up to him. If Keith wants to then he will and nothing he says will change his mind.

He won’t push it, either.

Keith seems to fight with himself, brows knit together and lips tugged down into a frown. A sigh leaves his lips and he leans back against the wall, arms crossed.

“Have you ever know someone who ended up being completely different from who they first presented themselves to be?”

Shiro is certain that his surprise shows but adapts quickly, confused at the question and expressing it by asking one instead of answering, “How so?”

Seemingly deep in thought, Keith casts his troubled gaze out the window. The others are outside still, already starting to heat up soup for dinner in a makeshift fire pit, and Shiro watches them as the silence keeps on passing by.

“It would be anyone in your life,” Keith starts slowly and Shiro’s eyes flick over to him, feeling concerned over how tense he seems to be. “Maybe a friend or a family member or a significant other. As time passes they start revealing their true self, doing and saying terrible things, but you’re at the point where you can’t exactly leave them, you have to stay or else bad shit will happen.”

Shiro ponders this. “A toxic person?”

He receives a small chuckle in response, more bitter than amused. “Toxic’s a good word, yeah.”

“I can’t say that I have,” he says, pausing at the sound of Keith’s hum. “Have you?”

Keith doesn’t respond for a long time and continues to look out the window. Shiro follows his gaze and sees that he’s looking at Lotor, who sits farther away from the group. As if sensing them, Lotor lifts his head and waves in their direction. Even from their distance, Shiro can see that he’s smiling.

“No.” Keith answers before walking away.

He stares after him, metal hand forming into a fist as his thoughts race. Shiro wonders, not for the first time, if he could get away with punching Lotor in the face with that one. 

☆ ☆ ☆

At night there are still shifts taken to keep watch, which consists of someone sitting by the window to gaze outside it. Keith will come trailing out of his room whenever Shiro has one, sitting down beside him either to talk or keep him company.

So Shiro starts to do the same whenever it’s Keith’s turn, bringing a pack of cards he found in one of the drawers in his room. The two of them play the card games that they know, even mixing two together to make things more fun.

“Do you think we should stay here?” Keith asks one night when it’s his turn, frowning at his cards. “You got any twos?”

Shiro tries not to react. “Go fish.”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s not how that one goes.”

“Give me your two, Shirogane.”

He sighs as he hands it over, ignoring Keith’s (cute) victory wiggle. “I think it would be a good idea to stay.” he says, inspecting his cards closely. “We could probably go back to that store and bring back what we can, that should enough to last for a while.”

Keith hums. “You think more of those people will be there? The ones that claimed we stole from them, I mean. I hope not.” His hand comes up to his shoulder, still healing but definitely much better than before. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“No,” Shiro says as his gaze falls to his hands, remembering the blood and feeling like it’s still there. “There won’t be.”

There’s a pause where Shiro can feel Keith’s stare and hears the deep breath he takes, preparing himself for the inevitable question.

“Got any sevens?”

Shiro breathes out slowly in relief and playfully glares at him. “Hey,” he protests. “It’s supposed to be my turn. So, thank you for that reveal. Do  _ you _ have any sevens?”

Keith grins at him. “Go fish.”

They keep their game up until Shiro starts yawning, which causes Keith to gather up all the cards and fix them into a neat pile before lightly ordering Shiro to bed. He tries to resist at first, wanting to stay with Keith for longer, but gives in when he gets a stern look.

He’s already turned away, ready to go back upstairs, when Keith calls his name. When he looks back at him he finds that his breath is taken away, as per usual with Keith, and is practically dumbstruck at the sight of him.

Keith’s features seem softer in the dim lighting, eyes carrying an emotion that Shiro can’t name. When he speaks it’s in a whisper, words paired with a happy smile.

“Goodnight, Takashi.”

He always says Shiro’s name so delicately, as if it’s the most important one in the universe. It never fails to make joy erupt within him, spreading through the rest of his body. He always basks in the feeling, wanting it to last forever.

“Goodnight, Keith.” Shiro manages to smile back at him. “See you in the morning.”

Back in his room, he doesn’t allow himself to sleep just yet. Shiro stays curled up on his side while staring at the wall across from him. His mind drifts, unsurprisingly, to Keith

Ever since their kiss under the mistletoe he’s been a constant in his thoughts more so than usual. Shiro feels an  _ ache  _ in his chest whenever he thinks of the man, a pull that tugs him closer to Keith whenever they’re in the room together. Every single cell in his body  _ wants  _ so desperately, especially after Keith smiles or laughs—even when they sit quietly, just two people existing beside each other, he craves.

This feeling is nothing like what he felt before and is so much stronger, filling him up until he feels like it might spill over for all to see, pooling at his feet and rising fast enough to drown him. Shiro doesn’t have to think too hard on what it could be, the word already on the tip of his tongue as if waiting to be set free.

Shiro’s gaze is drawn to his watch, the ticking loud in the quiet, and reads the time.

11:11.

_ Still early, _ Shiro muses even as he shuts his eyes. He finds himself drifting off almost instantly, not before one last thing.

_ I wish I could tell Keith that I... _

☆ ☆ ☆

“Shiro!”

He startles awake and has to take a moment to remember where he is, rolling over to see Lance’s panicked face. “What?” he croaks out, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “Am I supposed to do something today?”

“No, not that, it’s—” He seems frazzled, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up horribly. “Keith’s gone.”

That makes Shiro really wake up. “What?”

“He usually wakes me up so I can take over, you know? So I expected him to do that again, except I ended up waking up on my own and the sun was shining, which meant it was much later than my shift and I  _ know  _ Keith wouldn’t let me sleep in. I went downstairs to see if he was still on his shift for whatever reason and he wasn’t at the window!” Lance looks near tears. “He wasn’t in his room either, I checked!”

Shiro finally stands, forcing back the panic that threatens to wash over him. “Okay, okay, don’t get yourself all worked up about this. Maybe he just went out for a walk.” Reaching out to grip Lance’s biceps, he tries to smile reassuringly. “Go tell the others what happened and look all over the cabin. Outside, too. I’ll look in his room for any clues.”

Lance takes a deep breath and nods, exiting Shiro’s room without another word.

He pulls on his boots first and glances out the window. There’s no snow falling and it’s a bit bright out, maybe Keith went off to get some more food? It would make sense, especially after their conversation the night before.

_ If he did then why didn’t he ask me to go with him? _

He heads over to Keith’s room, ignoring the panicked voices coming from downstairs for now, and lingers in the doorway after he pushes the door open.

The red jacket is the first thing he sees, lying on the floor like it was tossed there without thought. It brings back the memory of Keith complaining about the cold and how he’ll freeze without one. Keith even wore it to sleep sometimes, stating that it was much warmer than plain blankets since he was already wearing it. 

This is what makes Shiro realize that he’s actually gone.  _ Keith wouldn’t go out without his jacket. _

Shiro has lost people before, when he was both young and old: family members that slowly grew older and older until they were finally gone, a couple of friends gone in a flash, people never returning from what should have been a brief outing. He lost his family in the beginning, leaving Shiro all alone in this new world until he was brought to a community that was supposed to stay safe, only to lose people there too.

He has mourned them all and has felt the ever-returning grief from time to time but none of it can compare to this.

Everyone’s loud voice suddenly sounds like white noise to him, fading away quick as he gains tunnel vision. He’s not even aware that he’s stepping into the room, not until he's gripping the red jacket in his hands as though he can feel Keith’s lingering presence.

"The car is gone." A voice says, faint and far away. "The snow covered up the tire tracks."

He slowly turns in a circle and takes in all the items left behind, further debunking the theory that Keith left on his own when he catches sight of his machete—resting on the small desk in the room, still in its sheath. Keith's backpack is on the floor beside the door and he opens it just to see if there’s anything inside. The items he usually carries are still in there.

"Lotor isn’t here anymore."

It's said quietly behind him, grim like they've come to the same conclusion as him at those words. He has to set the jacket down on the bed so he won't tear it in half when the cold anger rises up within him, clenching both hands into fists and taking a deep breath.

"He's not dead, then." Shiro says as he turns towards Pidge, taking in her red-rimmed eyes and messy hair. He forces himself to calm, wanting to project it so she won't be as tense. That's not what they need right now. "Lotor liked him too much to kill him."

While the statement is very true, it feels disgusting on his tongue.

"We'll find him," she whispers and walks in until her arms are wrapped around him. Shiro responds to the hug immediately, rubbing her back and feeling his eyes start to sting a bit when her body trembles.

He wills his tears away and releases a shaky breath. "We will."

This dole is not over the death of someone close to him, merely a huge part of him  _ aching _ for someone missing—a person who has been by his side long enough for it to be impossible to imagine him anywhere else. It's an emotion that mixes so well with the anger he feels, spreading through his veins like wildfire and pushing against its cage in desperation.

_ Not yet,  _ he tells himself.  _ We have to find to find him first. Patience yields focus, after all. _

"Come on," Shiro says quietly, keeping one arm around Pidge as he leads her out of Keith’s room. He shuts the door behind them and takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation that's about to happen. "We need to plan."


	4. Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lotor's an asshole

Spring

 

“Sir? We’ve got new ones.”

Keith looks up when Lotor leans forward with interest, hands tucked beneath his chin as he gazes at the one who brought the news. Said person shifts uncomfortably, tucking her hair behind her ear. “And you let them in?” he asks lightly, but there’s an undertone of danger that lurks within it. “Why was I not consulted beforehand?”

“We were only following your previous command, sir! The one to let people in if they matched the descriptions you gave us.” She looks apologetic, head ducked as if unable to meet Lotor’s gaze. Keith understands this all too well. “I’m sorry if that angers you, sir, but they really are the ones you’ve been waiting for.”

Lotor stares at her for longer before humming and sitting back against his throne-like chair. “Bring them in here,” he says and waves a hand, looking at Keith. “I’d like to greet them personally.”

Expression neutral, Keith gazes back at Lotor as the door slams shut behind the woman. Nothing is said for some time until Lotor reaches out to brush his fingers down Keith’s cheek, a touch that would be gentle if it was coming from someone other than him.

“We’re getting new people, Keith.” Lotor says with a hint of excitement to his words. His smile is much more delighted than usual, out of place and unsettling. “Aren’t you at least a little bit curious about them?”

_ Actually, I couldn’t care less.  _ Keith thinks. 

“I guess,” he says.

“You will when you see who they are.” Lotor’s grin grows, somehow. “A gift from me to you, if you want to think of it like that.”

Before Keith can think more on those statements, there’s a loud knock coming from the center doors. Lotor waves at the men he has stationed by them and they both pull them open, light streaming in and temporarily blinding him. All he does is turn his face away, blinking away the black spots in his vision and waiting for the door to close before looking back.

Only to feel like his breath has been stolen from his lungs.

The new people all stare at him with wide eyes and shocked expressions, all of them much dirtier but so  _ alive. _ He gives a small shake of his head when one steps forward, eyes flitting to Lotor and back. Thankfully, everyone seems to get the memo because their eyes snap to him next.

He’s a bit grateful that their attention has left him, embarrassment washing over him as he continues to kneel on the floor beside Lotor—quiet and docile like he’s supposed to be. The fire in him hasn’t gone out completely, though, and he feels it rise again at the sight of these newcomers but has to remind himself not to get too caught up in it.

One wrong move and their lives will be on the line. He really doesn’t want that.

“Keith?” Lotor’s holding out a hand. “Come.”

He takes it and rises, allowing Lotor to pull him into his lap. Keith doesn’t dare look when he can feel their stares again, sensing their confusion so strongly, and only looks at Lotor as he awaits his next direction.

God, he hates this.

“Mind introducing me, darling?” Lotor purrs in his ear. “I know that they’re good friends of yours.”

Showing no reaction, Keith finally looks at them again. He receives a nod from one of them and takes a deep breath, listing their names as he gestures to them.

“Ah, that’s right. I remember now.” Lotor says, releasing a thoughtful hum. His hand wraps around Keith’s wrist. thumb rubbing over his pulse. “Did you give that to him?” he asks. “Is that scar because of you? What a parallel to the one you gave me! I always thought you were a bit possessive of your things.”

Keith says nothing.

“Alright, back to business!” Lotor’s tone changes to something more friendlier, the fakeness of it practically oozing out of his words. “Welcome to my community! While you’re here you only have to remember one thing: I’m in charge and whatever I say is whatever you follow. It’s not surprising to see people get punished so keep that in mind if you ever get any thoughts about going against me.”

“You’re letting us stay?” Lance asks, and Keith tenses up.

Thankfully, Lotor doesn’t seem to be too upset about that and releases a genuine chuckle. “Well of course I will! Where else would you go? Keith here can show you to your rooms—I think all of you might take up an apartment floor—and he’ll tell you anything else you want to know about this place.”

Taking that as his cue to get up, Keith starts to stand and has to stop when the grip around his wrist gets tighter. He looks down at Lotor, who narrows his eyes minutely at him. 

“No chit-chatting,” he says in a low tone, a command. “Speak only of this community and nothing more. If you take too long and don’t return within an hour then I’ll send the guards to find you. We don’t want that now, do we?”

“Yes, Lotor,” Keith resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I’ll come back to you, I swear.”

“Good. Now, smile.”

He does. He’s learned how to fake it.

“Tell me you love me.”

The words are forced out, sickly sweet, “I love you.”

Lotor’s grasp actually gets tighter and he swears his bones shift against each other. Keith tries his hardest to not wince. It’s only for a moment and he’s released a second after, the dull throb letting him know that it’s definitely going to bruise later. 

“Good.” Lotor says and then waves him away, a dismissal. “Off you go.”

☆ ☆ ☆

The gazes of the other community members follow them as they walk through the streets, a prickling sensation on the back of his neck that keeps him in line when his friends start asking questions about him. Keith deflects them easily, instead talking about some of the buildings they pass by and even mentioning a few of the people that they’ll probably meet from time to time.

His friends seem to get the idea because they drop the questioning the closer they get to the apartment, staying silent and allowing Keith to talk about the place as they walk up the steps.

“Lotor said you get your own floor and he means it, the fourth floor hasn’t been used since everyone started trickling in so all of you will be able to have your own apartment.” Keith opens the door to the floor, walking backwards down the hallway as he extends his arms. “You can pick any room you want and no other community member will come up here unless you allow them.”

“What if we all want to share one?” Lance asks and while there is a defiant tilt to his head, his words hold genuine curiosity.

“Then you do,” Keith answers with a shrug. “No one will stop you.”

Nothing more is said as they walk to the end of the hall, where a much bigger apartment resides. He opens the door and lets them step in, taking a moment to glance down the hall and make sure that they’re truly alone before following.

He plans to speak with everyone about their situation here, but once he steps inside he’s pulled into a large hug.

Keith stills in surprise, only for a few seconds, before he wraps his arms around Hunk in return and squeezes him just as hard. The others fall in line, an individual hug coming from everyone—strong and warm, leaving him feeling happier than ever. He clings to them like they do to him and actually has to force himself to let go so he can move on to the next person.

“God,” Pidge whispers against his chest when it’s her turn. “I thought I would never see you again.”

The others seem to agree with that statement, nodding along with her before hugging him again. Keith laughs with them when they nearly tip over, their group hug uneven and messy but no less touching.

He doesn’t acknowledge the fact that he’s near tears and turns his face away so he can rub at his eyes, stopping when he catches sight of Shiro’s lost look.

“Shiro?” Keith asks carefully, disentangling from the hug so he can step closer to him. He sees the others move away, looking around the apartment. Probably to give them some space, which he appreciates. “What’s wrong?”

Even through his inquiry his eyes continue to flit all over Shiro’s features, taking in the scruff along his jaw and his longer hair. It’s not on Keith’s level but he can imagine it getting there someday. The white part of it is on the verge of covering his right eye and a couple of the shorter strands are pinned to the side with bobby pins, most likely to bothersome to leave on its own (which Keith fully understands).

An urge to bury his hands into Shiro’s hair starts to rise, wanting to feel if the strands are as soft as they look and also grip it tight to pull him closer. His hands twitch towards the man as if responding to the thought. He ignores that desire, shoving it deep within him with the hopes that he’ll one day get to do either, and focuses on Shiro again.

Shiro doesn’t look away from him and his hand moves, coming up and stopping a few inches away from his face. His eyes are questioning when they meet his and Keith nods, breath hitching at the tentative brush of fingers against his cheek. 

“You’re here,” Shiro whispers with a note of astonishment. “You’re really here.”

Keith knows he doesn’t mean here in the community, but rather here in front of Shiro—standing there, safe and sound, after almost four months apart. “I’m here, Takashi,” he murmurs, staring into his warm, grey eyes. “I missed you.”

The simplicity of that statement could never compare to the intensity of the actual feeling, harsh yearning that stretched for days while he resided in this place. He learned how to hide it but he could never squash it down, living in his mournful longing because he deserved nothing less.

In this moment it’s replaced by the joy that always came whenever he was around Shiro.

His words seem to bring a lightness to Shiro, lifting an unseen weight off his shoulders as his lips start to curve up. The hand close to his face drops down to his own, clasping it together and bringing it between them. He doesn’t say the words back to Keith but it’s not needed, shown in the way he’s pulled into an embrace that Keith sinks into without a second thought.

Shiro clutches at Keith like he’s afraid he’ll disappear if he lets go. Keith doesn’t mind at all and holds him the same way, burying his face in Shiro’s shoulder and breathing him in. 

This is where he wants to be.

Several moments pass before Keith finally pulls away, privately missing the warmth a lot more than he should, so he can talk to everyone. 

As his hand slips free it’s snagged into Shiro’s hold again, this time sliding down to his wrist. Shiro gazes down at it with a worried furrow to his brow, gently cradling it like it’s something precious, before asking quietly, “Are you okay?”

Keith definitely doesn’t want to linger on this subject and slides it up so his hand is in Shiro’s again, turning it and curling their fingers together. “I’m fine,” he says truthfully. There’s a small twinge of pain but he knows that it’s not too bad. If it was then he’d be useless and Lotor would never want that. “This is nothing.”

The dubious look that Shiro wears tells him that he’s not believed, jaw set as he continues his prodding, “Didn’t look like nothing to me.”

With a sigh, Keith shakes his head. “I’d rather not get into it right now,” he says and lets go of his hand. “Besides, there are more important things to discuss.”

“Like what?”

He turns his head and manages to catch Allura’s eyes, jerking his head to the side to indicate that he’d like the rest of them back here. It only takes a few seconds for all of them to be standing in front of him, staring at him in anticipation with the exception of Shiro’s frown.

_ Here goes nothing. _

“You need to leave while you can,” he tells them. “This may seem like a safe place but trust me when I say it’s not, especially for all of you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Allura asks, caution in her voice. “Does this have to do with  _ him? _ ” There’s disdain when she says it and he knows exactly who she means. “If so then please tell us, and also explain why you were kneeling beside him like some sort of—”

“Like some sort of pet,” Keith finishes and smiles in response to her apologetic look. “The comparison isn’t that far off, actually.” He quickly continues when he spots Shiro opening his mouth, not wanting to be interrupted. “He knows that you’re all important to me, especially after spending time around us back at the cabin, which means he won’t be afraid to use you guys against me.”

“What does  _ that _ mean?” Allura asks.

He glances over at the clock and notices that his time is almost up. 

“I can’t explain it right now. I have to go back,” Keith says, sighing. “Talk it over, okay? I know this might sound pretty crazy but it’s the right choice to make. Maybe I can find a way to get you out of here, I don’t know. If I can’t then you’ll have to do it on your own.”

“What about you?” Shiro asks, frowning.

Keith shakes his head. “I can’t go.”

“We just got you back…”

He hates how small Pidge’s voice sounds and closes his eyes so he won’t have to look at any of them, doesn’t want to see their expressions at the idea Keith has brought forth.

“I know,” he says quietly. “And I’m sorry but you might have to leave without me. You guys need a safe place and I’m telling you right now that this one isn’t it. You’d be safer if you’re  _ far _ away from here.”

They all fall silent so Keith turns to open the door, not wanting to be late. A hand on his arm prevents him from going any further and he turns back to see Lance, a serious expression on his face.

“How come you haven’t tried to leave yet? You could have come back to us.”

While there’s no accusation in his words, only honest curiosity, he still feels like there is. Keith meets his gaze head-on and then slowly slides it towards Shiro’s, the agony within him rising up again like it had when he first arrived here.

“Because,” Keith says bitterly, the hatred he feels towards Lotor only growing. “He told me that he killed you all.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Lotor is still in his throne room when Keith returns, elbow on one of the armrests of his chair and cheek resting against his hand. His gaze is directed at the floor but he does look up when Keith stops a few feet before him, standing still as Lotor seems to peer into his soul. “You’re not late,” he finally says after a while, sounding pleased. “I really thought you’d disobey me!”

Keith tries not to roll his eyes.

“Tell me, did they like their new dwelling?”

“They weren’t unhappy with it,” he says carefully, rushing through the rest of his answer when there’s a flash of anger in Lotor’s eyes. “It might be because they were given the option to sleep apart. When I told them that they could stay in one room they seemed a lot more accepting of it.”

“Interesting.”

He stays standing there while Lotor seems to be lost in thought.

“I have the perfect idea.” Lotor suddenly says. “Why don’t you invite them over for dinner, darling? That way I can get to know them like you do.”

Keith doesn’t point out that he already knows them from his time at the cabin. Now is not the time to show attitude. “Do you want me to go tell them just before dinner?” he asks.

“I think you should go now. We can’t have them eating on a full stomach!” Lotor pauses and beckons him closer. His hands are grasped in Lotor’s when he stands in front of him and the smile he gets is mischievous. “Actually, I’ll send one of my own to tell them. I want you to use the time to get our dining room prepared, and then you can get ready once you’re done.”

“Anything specific I should wear?”

“Hmm.” Both of his hands move up to circle around Keith’s wrists, squeezing hard. Keith tries not to wince when this action puts a strain on his already sore one, holding his breath until it ceases. “Can’t let them think that you don’t belong to anyone now, can we?” Lotor clicks his tongue and lets go, shooing him away. “The red one would be the best choice.”

He leaves the room to do that, because  _ what else can he do? _

It’s not a lot of work, actually. All he has to do is exchange the plain white tablecloth for a gold damask one made of velvet and lay pretty lavender and gold plates made of porcelain on top of it. He also arranges a small bouquet and places it in a vase made of crystal, knowing that Lotor will like this type of grand display.

An expensive one, that is. Wealth no longer matters but Lotor still likes to show it off.

He passes by the kitchen on his way to his room, inhaling deeply to smell what’s being cooked and ends up smiling the rest of the way.

Keith wonders if the others will smile too, when they look down at their plates and see fish.

☆ ☆ ☆

By the time his friends arrive, trickling in one by one, Keith is already sitting at the table beside Lotor. 

They are directed to their own seats by one of the lackeys stationed in the room and Keith can’t help but notice how Shiro is on the other side of the table. He wonders if he was deliberately placed there to be kept far away from Keith. It doesn’t actually anger him, instead giving him an insight into Lotor’s head. 

He sees Shiro as a threat.

His smile stays hidden.

“I’m happy that you all decided to join us this evening!” Lotor says with delight. “I thought it would be nice to get to know each other over some food since I didn’t want to pester my dear Keith here for details.”

Humiliation washes over him when their eyes zero in on the collar, resting uncomfortably around his throat like the brand it’s meant to be. He doesn’t look at them directly and keeps his gaze trained on Lotor, nails digging into palms when Lotor claps his hands together.

Two cooks start bringing out the food after that signal. The fish looks well made and Keith isn’t at all surprised to see this, knowing that Lotor would use up the many resources just to be certain they’d all have a perfect meal.

He may be a terrible person, but he’s an amazing host.

Another set of people come out with utensils, placing them beside everyone’s plates while the fish is still being served. He pays them no mind, gaze roving over his friends and shaking his head at Allura when a couple try to eat. She stops them in time, raising an eyebrow in an obvious question to which Keith answers by tilting his head toward Lotor.

No one can start until he does.

His attention is dragged away from her when a knife is placed next to his plate.

Keith’s first instinct is to swipe it off and stab it into Lotor’s throat, leaving him to choke on his own blood while he and his friends make their escape but the guards in the room have guns—they’d kill the others first and leave him for last, something that Lotor taught well.

He doesn’t even need to pick any utensil up because no fish is served to him, a second one already cut up and placed next to Lotor’s. Keith tries not to scowl when the man pierces a piece with his own fork, keeping his mouth shut when it’s raised to his lips.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Lotor asks mildly. “I know you haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

The statement is laced with false concern, paired with narrowed eyes that tell Keith he should listen or it won’t end pretty for him. A familiar expression after so much time spent around him.

“Thank you,” Keith says as politely as possible, taking the bite into his mouth. He knows this is only an exaggerated show for everyone watching, so they know Keith belongs and listens to one person only, something Lotor had admitted before with glee. 

Shame is what he feels next when he glances over at his friends and sees the surprise on their faces, maybe over the fact that Keith rolls over so easily for the man? He wishes he could explain why he’s doing so, how there’s no other choice but to follow through with his demands.

_ I probably don’t even need to explain it, _ Keith thinks, opening his mouth for another piece of fish.  _ Lotor will show them before the night is over. _

The rest of the meal is silent, the only sounds coming from forks and knives scraping along plates. Lotor hums on occasion, he always enjoys a good meal, and continues to feed Keith in-between his own bites of food.

The knife remains untouched.

Lotor speaks up after a while, tone holding a curiosity that also contains a hint of detachment, which will allow people to answer but shows that he won’t actually care about what they have to say.

“Do any of you have families?” He pauses. “Or  _ had, _ I should say. I’m well aware that losing people is something that happens all the time in this world.”

No one answers.

Lotor looks at Keith, disappointment in his eyes. “Your friends are very lackluster, darling,” he murmurs, holding up another piece of fish to Keith’s mouth. “Maybe I should talk about my family, would that make them feel comfortable enough to share?” A mean grin appears on his face. “Or maybe  _ you _ should tell them how you lost your family. That’s a story we’re all dying to hear, I’m sure.”

Keith suddenly has a hard time swallowing his food, feeling like the walls are closing in on him. Even after all this time, Lotor still remembers that little tidbit Keith had offered up when they started growing close the first time he arrived here. 

There’s an expectant tilt to Lotor’s head. Keith doesn’t look at his friends, looking at the wall ahead of him as he takes a deep breath.

But it’s not him who speaks, and his eyes snap to Allura in surprise when her voice rings out, “I lost my father before everything fell apart. It was a car accident but he wasn’t the one at fault, he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Allura’s head is held high as she stares at Lotor. Keith’s gaze slides to the man and he almost smiles at the irritation that rests on his face, feeling a large amount of warmth for his friend.

“I’m still searching for my family. I know they’re not dead,” Pidge’s voice is strong, nothing but belief in her words. “The odds might be against us but I’m not giving up. They’re out there somewhere and I’m going to find them.”

“I don’t know about mine,” Hunk says with a hint of sadness. “We got separated at the beginning and that’s the last time I saw them. I want to say that they made it out okay but I know better than to get my hopes up.”

“Mine actually forced me away from the safe zone we were living in and I still don’t know why. Maybe because they knew something was going to happen?” Lance shrugs. “I don’t know and I haven’t gone back to find out, I’m almost afraid to at this point.”

Coran speaks up next, smiling brighter than normal and wrapping one arm around Allura. “She’s the only family I have left! Not by blood but that doesn’t really matter, don’t you agree?”

Keith almost laughs at how  _ annoyed _ Lotor looks now, hand clenched around his fork as a forced smile appears on his face. “I agree completely,” he replies and stabs another piece of fish, one that Keith eats happily. 

Shiro opens his mouth, obviously to tack on another story about his own family, but Lotor cuts him off by clapping his hands loudly. “I think we should move on,” he says. “Maybe you’ll all enjoy watching an arena fight.”

He barely manages to contain his startled jump, swallowing when Lotor looks at him.

“Do you have someone in mind to toss into the fight?” 

Keith purses his lips.

“No one? Really? Then I guess  _ you  _ will have to do it.” Lotor sighs like the thought pains him. “I’ll be beside myself with worry! Unless,” his eyes slide away, lips curling as he fixes his stare on someone. When Keith follows his gaze he tries not to show a reaction when he realizes it’s stuck on Shiro, who looks back with a furrowed brow. “Unless someone else would like to take your place, thus keeping you safe and sound like you deserve.”

“I’ll do it.”

It's Shiro, of course it's him, who speaks up. Keith tries to catch his gaze so he can shake his head to tell him no but he and Lotor seem to be trapped in a staring contest, one that ends when Shiro’s eyes dart to Keith.

He wonders if his dread shows on his face.

“An outsider fighting with the people within, sounds like it’ll be a good fight.” Lotor reaches out and pats Keith’s arm. “Be a doll and show him where he’s supposed to go? You’re allowed to give him any pointers and even help him choose his weapon.”

“Right now?” Keith gestures to the food, hoping his panic doesn’t show. “Shouldn’t we finish eating?”

“You and I both know that fighting  _ and  _ watching on a full stomach ends terribly for everyone.”

☆ ☆ ☆

The arena happens to be no bigger than a basketball court, surrounded by large cages that contain infected inside them. There are a few set of bleachers that rest farther back, allowing anyone who sits there a good view of the fights. Keith leads Shiro over where the weapons are kept in silence, waiting until the door closes behind him before whirling around to face him.

“You didn't have to do that,” Keith says and he can't keep the iciness out of his words, covering up his worry. “He only said all of that to get you to agree. Well, actually, I am actually capable of winning these things so there's one thing he said correctly.”

“I know you are, Keith.” Shiro says quietly. “I haven’t forgotten that. It just...slipped out, my brain got caught on the whole  _ safe and sound  _ bit.” 

Keith sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You still shouldn't have volunteered when you don't even know what you're doing.” He gestures to the wall of weapons. “You're allowed a choice because it's your first time participating. Whichever one you pick is the only one you can use during your match.” He eyes the wall with a tilt of his head. “I’ll help you.”

“Thanks,” Shiro says. “Who am I up against?”

“Other people,” Keith copies his grimace. “It gets worse when you realize that it's a life or death game—kill or be killed. If no one is dead by the five minute mark then they open up the cages and release the infected. They're still chained to their places, though, and start to get closer and closer as more time without death passes.”

“Sounds fun.” Shiro’s deadpan almost makes him smile. “And you've done this before?”

“I didn't have a choice.”

“Is this something Lotor created himself?”

“It was his father, actually,” Keith answers. “That man was as vile as the world around us and I am  _ glad  _ he died.” He reaches out to the center of the wall, wrapping his hand around the handle of what looks like a small scythe. “This one might be good.”

“I’ll still have to use it to kill someone,” Shiro mutters but he does take it from him, gripping the extended part that juts out a few inches above the handle. “What about the infected? Are we allowed to kill those?”

“There isn't a rule against it,” Keith stares at the door.  “You can also push them in the direction of the other humans and let them do all the work.”

“Are they innocent?” Shiro asks suddenly, gaining his attention once again. He’s staring at Keith intensely as he awaits the answer, like it’ll be the thing to fuel his decision. “Or are they as bad as Lotor?”

Licking his lips, Keith thinks the questions over for a few long seconds before answering, “They follow him no matter what he tells them to do. I think some even get enjoyment out of their tasks,” he shrugs. “I never pay attention to anyone else in here. They barely speak to me because they know how Lotor would react if they're seen trying to be my friend.”

Shiro opens his mouth, and the curiosity that’s written all over his face tells Keith that he’s probably going to ask about it. The moment remains untouched, because someone knocks on the door.

“The match will begin soon.”

He knows that the person behind the door won’t leave until their newest fighter is with them. Keith reaches out and places a hand on Shiro’s arm, hoping to offer some form of comfort. 

“Be careful,” he says quietly. “Don’t let your guard down, these guys don’t mess around.” Keith tries to smile. “I’ll be cheering for you.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow, a twitch of his lips showing off his amusement. “Will Lotor like that?”

“No,” Keith answers, just as amused. “This is one of the places where I’ve got some freedom so I end up not giving a damn about what he does and doesn’t like.” He starts to push Shiro towards the doors after seeing the way his brows knit together. “Go on, Shiro. It’s time to fight.”

“You’re not gonna wish me luck?” Shiro asks teasingly, though Keith can hear the nervousness that lies beneath it.

Keith replies honestly, all the faith he carries for the man resting in one statement, “You won’t need it.”

He lingers at the doorway so he can make sure that Shiro is being led in the right direction; heading out through a different door and walking to the bleachers in the center. Lotor is already sitting at the top bench while his friends are sat one lower. Keith pays him no mind as he plops down beside him, fighting the urge to jerk away when Lotor presses their thighs together.

“You took your time,” Lotor says. “I had to tell that guard to come get you two.”

“I had a lot of explaining to do,” Keith shoots back and softens his voice when he feels the man tense. “What did you expect? He hasn’t even been here for a day.”

The other members of the community start to filter in, filling up the rest of the seats with equal looks of anticipation and excitement. While this isn’t the only source of entertainment around here, electricity has brought back the joy of movies, it’s still something that everyone looks forward to.

A man stands in the center of the arena once everyone has settled down, speaking through a megaphone that echoes through the area, “Here we are with another fight, only this time we have a new challenger—one of the fresh faces that walked into the community on this day.”

Keith doesn’t bother listening to whatever else the announcer is saying, eyes fixed on Shiro’s opponents. There are three other people in the arena with him, a large, broad one that stands straight and two shorter ones that hunch in on themselves. He then shifts all of his attention onto Shiro, smiling at him when their gazes lock and receiving a fleeting one in return.

Not even Lotor can tear his focus away when he speaks condescendingly, “I pray that your…  _ friend _ knows how to survive. I decided to bet on him tonight.”

“He does,” Keith says with conviction. “He’ll win.”

“You have a lot of confidence in him.”  _ Is that a hint of jealously in Lotor’s voice? _ “How eye-opening.”

The fight starts a few seconds later, the announcer stepping out of the arena, and one of the shorter ones is already trying to fight off the largest person while the other goes after Shiro.

Their weapon of choice is a hammer and they immediately start to swing it at him the moment they’re close enough. Shiro dodges every time and it quickly becomes apparent that he’s leading them towards the other pair.

_ He doesn’t want to hurt them himself, _ Keith realizes when Shiro rolls out of the way to avoid another hammer swing, which hits the arm of the other shorter opponent and causes them to scream in pain. It hangs limply at their side, broken.

A bell rings and the cage gates are flung open, infected stumbling out and reaching the edge of the arena before the chains around their bodies jerk them back to keep them in place. The larger man, named  _ Gladiator _ according to Lotor’s whisper, shoves the one with the broken arm towards one of the infected and their life ends after a few bites to the face and throat.

Three remaining.

The other shorter one, most likely fearful after seeing one person die, drops their weapon and tries to run away. It’s not a very good plan, considering that the infected are there for a reason, and they’re soon pushed back after getting a deep scratch across their face. Shiro doesn’t go near him and it turns that he doesn’t even need to—the Gladiator makes quick work of them by beating them to death with his club, a sight that Keith cringes away from.

There’s a very small intermission where the body is cleared away, tossed to the dead nearby and torn to shreds as they dig into their meal.

And then there were two.

Shiro doesn’t raise his weapon, not that he gets the chance to do so when the Gladiator is rapidly swinging his club while lunging at him. It’s not working in his favor because it seems like he’s tiring out, movements growing slower and sloppy while Shiro is still skillfully dodging both him and the grabbing hands of the infected.

Their eyes lock, only for a moment, and Keith nods.

It ends when Shiro grips his weapon with both hands and swings it towards the Gladiator at an alarming speed, the protruding end of the blade sinking into the man’s throat and staying embedded in skin. Shiro doesn’t stop there, though, and shoves him toward the infected. 

There are no screams this time but in the oppressive silence that surrounds the arena, it’s very easy to hear his dying gurgles.

Everyone seems to be stunned at the outcome and Keith figures it’s because the Gladiator was probably the only person who won these things for a while, only to be beat by a newcomer who has no experience with these matches. He casts a glance at Lotor to see his reaction, who looks just as surprised as the rest. His eyes contain the slightest hint of rage, suddenly fixing into a glare towards the arena.

Shiro remains standing in the center, staring directly at Keith. Even as the applause starts it never falters, as if Keith is the most important thing here—the star that’ll lead him home, the center of his universe. It sends Keith’s heart racing, beating for the one person that has yet to give up on him.

He smiles at Shiro and starts clapping along with everyone else, shaking his head in amusement at the two-fingered salute he gets in return.

☆ ☆ ☆

Although his friends are in the same community he’s been living in, Keith is aware that he’s not allowed to see them alone.

Lotor hasn’t explicitly stated this but Keith never gets the chance to ask since he seems conveniently busy whenever Keith opens his mouth. Keith is also kept by Lotor’s side and it prevents him from seeing his friends like he wants, left with only brief glimpses when they walk past one another.

Despite this, he still makes plans to try and sneak out to see them. 

A few more nights pass before he actually has the chance to do so.

The guards inside their home will change every so often, depending on their usefulness to Lotor. There is one guard that’s kinder than the rest, the only person who turns a blind eye to anything Keith does. Sometimes he’ll even give a signal to tell Keith when the coast is clear.

Keith doesn’t  _ trust  _ the man completely, considering he works under Lotor, but he does enough to know that he means no harm to Keith. He also hates Lotor as much as Keith does, it seems, so that helps.

His opportunity arrives with a knock on his door.

“Come in,” Keith calls out, and greets the guard with a smile.

“I’m supposed to inform you that Lotor has left for the night and will most likely return on the following one,” he says, hands behind his back once he’s stepped in. “My job is to stand outside your door and make sure you don’t leave. If you try to leave from there then it won’t be easy, because I’ll see you.”

Keith takes it all in, humming thoughtfully and then nodding. “Got it. See you in the morning.”

The guard nods at him and leaves the room. Once the door is shut Keith bursts into action and changes into darker clothes, grabbing his knife and sheath to strap to his jeans. He doesn’t take anything else, turning the light off in his room before walking over to the window that faces a dirty alleyway.

He climbs out with ease and takes care in not making any noise. There’s a small ledge beneath the window that he stands on and right below it, set a few inches to the right, is a broken down mail truck that makes a great platform for getting down and back up. 

So he jumps down and starts making his way out of the alley. A fence blocks his path but he doesn’t let that stop him and climbs over it.

Lackeys are walking up and down the streets, patrolling the area, and yet Keith still manages to slip past them without difficulty. It makes Keith roll his eyes over how they lack awareness of their surroundings.

Keith walks into the backstreet beside the apartment complex where his friends live. This is what makes it easy to sneak around the place, all the narrow paths a blessing to duck into when he wants to avoid being seen.

He grabs one of the sturdier crates nearby and places it beneath the ladder, using it as a boost so he can jump up to grab the bottom of it and start climbing up to the fire escape. Keith keeps his steps quiet as he keeps moving up, until he reaches where he wants to be. He crouches just outside the window and peers inside.

All of his friends are scattered across the living room, eyes fixed on a movie that’s playing on their TV. Only Lance and Allura seem invested in it while the rest look bored, so Keith takes this as a good sign that they’ll see him and taps on the glass.

Shiro is the first to look his way, expression shifting to one of shock. Keith merely offers a wave.

When Shiro starts walking over it captures everyone else’s attention, their own faces equally surprised. The window opens and Keith sees first-hand the joy that blossoms on Shiro’s face when, feeling his own bubbling in his chest.

“Hi,” Keith breathes out. “Gonna let me in or what?”

“Or what,” Shiro replies, cheeky grin in place, stepping back and holding out a hand. 

Keith takes it and uses it to pull himself inside, not even bothering to let go when he turns to look at the rest of his friends. “Sorry I couldn’t come sooner,” he says instead of greeting them. “It’s pretty hard to sneak out when you’re basically under constant watch.”

“Then why did you come here tonight?” Allura asks with a frown. “Isn’t it risky?”

“Lotor isn’t in the community right now,” Keith answers happily, squeezing Shiro’s hand before letting go to walk over to the couch. “He won’t return until tomorrow, apparently, so I’ll be fine if I spend some time here.”

“Or you can spend the night!” Pidge exclaims and scoots closer when he plops down beside her. “We can set up an alarm for you so you can leave first thing in the morning.”

“Probably have to set it for really early,” Keith muses, relaxing against the cushions. “The guard that’s outside my door for the night has to actually  _ see _ me in my room when he checks on me, which shouldn’t be until a little after eight.”

Shiro sits down next to him, looking disgusted. “He has someone guarding your door?”

“Can’t have me trying to escape whenever I want, you know,” Keith says lightly, like it’s completely normal for that possibility. He knows it’s not but he’s kind of stuck here, and will continue to be unless something happens that allows his own escape.

Lance shushes him from the other couch and he turns his attention to the TV screen, tilting his head when he realizes that he recognizes the movie. The name of it is lost on him so he looks over at Allura and asks, “What are you watching?”

“A movie about robots,” Allura says excitedly. “And really strange creatures? There’s a name for both but I keep forgetting. Have you seen it before?”

Keith smiles. “Can’t say that I have,” he answers, recalling the time he watched the movie with Shiro—though, it was on a laptop screen rather than an actual TV. “Is it good?”

“I really like it,” she replies, smiling wide. “I think you will too! Shiro also hasn’t seen it so this will be your first times!”

“First time, huh?” Keith mutters to Shiro, holding back a laugh at the pink that spreads across Shiro’s cheeks. “I didn’t know you’d never seen this movie, Shiro. Seems like I learn something new about you every day.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Shiro grumbles. “You’re in the same boat.”

Still smiling, he leans against Shiro and starts watching the movie. He feels the way his friend tenses up, maybe because it was _ Keith _ who initiated the contact, only to relax after a few seconds. There’s a bit of shifting, and then an arm rests on his shoulders.

“This okay?” Shiro whispers.

Keith responds by resting his head against Shiro’s shoulder, basking in the warmth he gives off. “Definitely.”

☆ ☆ ☆

He tries his hardest to sneak out to seem them more, even risking it when Lotor’s back in the community. Keith wonders why he hasn’t been caught yet with how Lotor seems to be suspicious of something, curiously eyeing the faint smile that Keith constantly wears. It’s never brought up and Keith hasn’t been followed around so he figures that he’s safe, squashing down his fear.

Keith is happy that he’s able to spend more time with Shiro, always sitting next to him whenever he’s with his friends. Shiro always talks to him in whispers whenever they’re watching a movie or playing the board games they’ve been provided with, leaning in close so no one else can hear and always,  _ always, _ smiling softly at Keith like he just can’t help it.

It doesn’t help his feelings one bit.

They all grow even closer, which makes leaving their apartment harder and harder because he just wants to stay there forever—surrounded by the people he loves and far away from the person he loathes.

It’s even better whenever Lotor happens to be away for the night, since Keith gets to wake up with all of his friends. Even though it’s always so early in the morning they still eat breakfast with him, much like before, and he always departs with the promise that he’ll try to visit soon.

Keeping secrets never bode well for Keith but he manages to keep this one under wrap, the days trickling on by where he stays with Lotor in the day and spends some nights with his friends.

Then, Lotor tells him that he’s going on a supply run.

He’s reasonably shocked at the order, staring up at Lotor with wide eyes. Several moments pass where no one says a thing, Lotor continuing to scribble something on a piece of paper and Keith trying to find his voice.

“ _ What? _ ” Keith finally asks. “You’re actually  _ letting _ me go out there?”

Lotor sets his pen down and releases an irritated sigh. “I don’t like repeating myself,” he says as he looks down at Keith. “Yes, I’m letting you go on a supply run and I’ll be giving you a list of things to find. You’ll be going with one of my men and you can choose one of your,” his nose wrinkles. “ _ friends _ to tag along with you.”

Keith blinks.

“Do you not want to go? Is that it?” Lotor reaches down with one hand to stroke his cheek. “I thought you deserved some acknowledgment for how good you’ve been.”

Guilt curls in his stomach for only a second, disappearing when he reminds himself that there’s nothing to be guilty for when Lotor’s the one in the wrong. Keith definitely isn’t a good person, not by a long shot, but he’s definitely a better man than the one who keeps him as a  _ trophy. _

“Sorry for questioning,” Keith says meekly, internally rolling his eyes. While his submissive demeanor is sometimes the real deal, the fear that he’ll hurt or kill someone if Keith doesn’t listen very effective in keeping him that way, there are times when he has to put on the act to keep Lotor in a good mood. It’s exhausting. “I’m just  _ surprised,  _ that’s all.”

“This is a reward, my dear. Do I not give you enough of those?” Lotor arches a brow, sitting back and leaving his cheek cold. “You’ll be pulling more of your own weight and if you’re on your best behavior out there I might let you out again.” Brightening, he grabs the piece of paper on his desk and hands it over. “You’ll leave tomorrow morning. Go and talk to your friends, decide who you’ll take and return to get the rest you need.”

“Okay,” he says quietly, folding the list up to keep it safe in his pocket. “Thank you, Lotor,” Keith says with a smile and continues before he’s commanded to say it, disgust curling up in his stomach, “I love you.”

☆ ☆ ☆

He chooses Shiro.

Keith had trouble asking him, stuttering over his words when Shiro smiled in encouragement. He looked so damn pleased when Keith was finally able to get the words out, and Keith doesn’t know if it’s because he finally gets the chance to get out of there, even if it’s only for a couple of hours, or if it’s because he’s going with Keith.

A large part of him hopes that it’s the latter.

They leave with another man, who greets them at the garage and leads them over to the car that they’ll be taking. It’s a red, old Honda civic, dull in color but working just fine. He can’t stop looking out the window, greedily drinking in the sight of everything outside the community because he’s seen nothing but that.

The store is only a short drive from the community, which means that his time on the outside will be just as short. As much as he’d like to he doesn’t make a break for it, not willing to risk his friends’ safety when they’re within distance of Lotor.

Shiro sticks close to him when they enter the building, opening his mouth and shutting it whenever the other man strays closer. It’s a bit frustrating for the two of them, wanting to talk but being unable to, so Keith sends Shiro off to find some things on the list so they can get through this quick.

Most of the items they need is easily found but he’s having trouble finding a specific brand of tea, He walks through the aisle that’s supposed to have it, ahead of the other person who decided to pair up with Keith, for some reason.

“What’s your name again?” Keith inquires, shining his light on the tattered boxes that are scattered across the floor. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“Prorok. I work at the gates.”

“Right, that must be why,” he frowns and slowly turns to face him. “Wait, if you work at the gates then how come you’re here?”

“I couldn’t let this opportunity escape.” 

The way Prorok says it sends a spark of unease down his spine, causing him to slowly edge away from the man. 

“What do you mean by that?” Keith asks cautiously.

“It surprised me when Lotor actually let you out on this supply run,” Prorok continues, ignoring him. “When he asked for volunteers to tag along and  _ protect  _ you,” he laughs unkindly. “I took my chance.”

Keith is knocked to the floor in the next moment, head banging harshly on the tiles which causes him to feel dazed for several seconds. There’s a weight that pins him down, hands wrapping around his throat.

“You’re the reason he’s so weak,” Prorok hisses out, pressing down. “Ever since you came back all he cares about is you. We could all be burning and he’d turn a blind eye just so he can make sure you didn’t get near the flames.”

“Not true,” Keith manages to say, pushing and pulling at Prorok’s wrists and only managing to lift the pressure off for a few seconds before he’s smacked across the face. It returns only seconds later, Prorok choking him even harder now, and all Keith can do is dig his nails into his arm.

“When you’re gone we’ll be able to move forward like the strong community we’re meant to be,” Prorok says with glee. “He’ll understand very soon that he never needed you to begin with, and possibly reward me for the choice I’ve made on his behalf.”

He can barely get any air in, wheezing as he flings one hand up to catch Prorok’s face. Keith doesn’t even hit him and he receives a mocking laugh for his truly pitiful effort.

The weight is taken off of him so suddenly and the air that rushes back in leaves Keith almost dizzy, turning onto his side as he gasps for breath. He hears a familiar voice, faint at first but steadily becoming clearer—low and threatening, protective and angry. 

Keith looks to it and sees Shiro standing above Prorok, pointing a pistol at him. There is no fear on his faze as he gazes back at the weapon, and Keith reads a smug acceptance there. It’s written in the curve of Prorok’s lips, eyes lit up with satisfaction.

This is what makes him slam a hand on the tiles, gritting his teeth and forcing out a, “ _ No! _ ”

That gets their attention, Prorok looking at him curiously while Shiro tilts his head in Keith’s direction. Raising a hand to rub at his throat, Keith rises on shaky legs and takes a moment to get himself together—aware of how close he came to death. 

“Don’t shoot him,” he says after taking a few slow breaths, glaring when Prorok raises an eyebrow. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” Shiro asks quietly. Dangerous, his finger twitching on the trigger. “He didn’t hesitate to try and kill you.” 

Keith walks closer to him, schooling his expression into something neutral. “Lotor can have him,” he says simply, trying his best to not his enjoyment at seeing the fear that paints itself across Prorok’s face. “I’m sure he’ll be pleased to know that you attempted to murder his prized possession.”

As much as he hates saying those words he knows them to be true, dismissing the man and anything he’ll say by turning to Shiro. 

“Can you hit him hard enough to knock him out?” Keith asks, eyeing the gun in his hands. “I don’t want to hear him talk on the way back.”

☆ ☆ ☆

They arrive back at the community late in the afternoon, mostly because Keith went ahead and found everything else Lotor asked for and they had to lay low when a herd of infected started passing through the road they were taking, car turned off and blankets pulled over their heads as they waited it out. 

Prorok didn’t say unconscious for long, but all Keith did was place a stip of duct tape across his mouth so he would stay silent.

Other minions took the supplies when he was led into the garage to park the car. He hopes that Lotor isn’t angry about their tardiness and figures that he’ll be most likely forgiven, considering his hands will be full after he learns what Prorok tried to do to Keith.

He orders three of the men to take Prorok to Lotor’s throne room. If they’re taken aback by it then they contain their reactions well, following it without question. Keith feels him relax when he’s left alone with Shiro, welcoming the one-armed hug with a smile. They step away from each other just before another guard comes up to them, telling Keith that Lotor is waiting for him.

Keith heads in that direction, frowning when he looks to the side and sees Shiro matching his pace. Once they enter the building he stops so he can turn to him, sighing.

“Go back to your apartment,” Keith instructs quietly, so the guard won’t hear him. “You can let the others know what happened but don’t try to check up on me. I’m not sure what Lotor will do to Prorok so I’d rather you stay away and not witness his anger.”

Shiro looks like he wants to argue, eyes narrowing and back straightening in obvious defiance. “I think I should be able to decide what I can and can’t do, Keith.” he says. “What I want to do is stay with you and make sure that you’re really okay.”

“Shiro,” Keith says and shakes his head. “You  _ can’t _ do that right now, okay?” His hands twitch with the urge to reach out and grab hold of Shiro’s hand, wanting to feel the comforting weight of it in his own. “I want you to stay too,” he admits quietly. “But I want you safe more than anything so please, go back to your place.”

“Keith…”

“For me?”

Even in the dim lighting, Keith can see the way his cheeks darken. “Okay,” Shiro says. “Only because you asked.”

A pleased smile flickers onto his face. “Thank you.”

“Though I’ll make sure to try and see you sometime soon, you can’t deny me that.”

Shiro leaves soon after that, albeit reluctantly but still nowhere near Lotor. Keith lingers outside and waits until he can no longer see him, taking a deep breath before he walks further into the building.

When he reaches Lotor’s throne room he captures the attention of both men, Prorok standing across Lotor with pink across his mouth where the tape had been. Lotor nods at the spot beside it and he walks over, standing without saying a word, and watches Lotor turn his gaze to Prorok.

“Did you think that I would not find out?” Lotor asks curiously, sitting very still on his throne. His eyes are full of the anger his voice does not hold and Keith would feel a bit of admiration for the man who continues to stand tall across him if the strangling incident never happened. “Were you going to kill Keith and pin the blame on someone else? I never took you for a coward, Prorok, but I suppose even  _ I  _ can be proven wrong.”

An arm is stretched out in his direction, a hand reaching for his own. Keith takes it without complaint, so he won’t add more fuel to anger, and lets himself be pulled closer. Lotor stands once Keith is close and raises his other hand, fingers skimming along his cheek before lightly brushing his neck.

“How bad does it hurt?” Lotor asks softly.

Tender as it may seem, Keith knows that this display is anything but. Once, way before the present time, he would have easily called Lotor’s touches  _ gentle  _ and  _ caring  _ because it always conveyed the impression that it was. While the emotion seems to be there now, he’s able to recognize that it’s all an act and nothing more.

It makes him wonder if it had been in the past and if he’d simply been too blind to notice.

“Not a lot,” Keith answers truthfully. “Only feels sore when I move or swallow but there’s no constant feeling of pain. It might bruise, though. He really tried his hardest to kill me.”

There is no remorse as he watches Lotor’s expression turn frigid. He knows that his words have just cemented Prorok’s death yet he finds that he does not care. Keith would have killed the man if he didn’t already know that Lotor would make dying seem like the best option.

The hand touching him  suddenly fits around his throat, doing nothing more than simply resting there. “Your friend didn’t try to kill him?” Lotor asks lightly. “I’m surprised, since you matter so much to him.”

“I told him not to,” Keith replies, knowing that he wants an answer. “Because I know you prefer to punish people for not following your rules rather than see them dead before you can do a thing. That’s also why I didn’t retaliate.”

“Good pet.” Lotor whispers with an expression of delight. 

The praise is paired with another stroke of fingers across his cheek. It settles alongside the disgust he feels, barely held back as he forces a smile in Lotor’s direction. Keith says nothing more and doesn’t move from his spot as Lotor whirls around to face Prorok again.

“Answer me,” Lotor orders, and Keith feels a flash of satisfaction at seeing the other man flinch. “You already heard the questions once. I won’t repeat myself.”

Prorok stands up straighter, hands behind his back after he clears his throat, “I had been thinking about doing it for a while and hoped for the chance to be alone with him. Killing him would have been easier if it wasn’t for that Shiro guy who went with us, but even then I felt my chances of punishment would be light since he’d be dead.”

“If you had succeeded earlier then you would have blamed Shiro, correct?” It’s strange to hear Shiro’s nickname leave Lotor’s mouth without the usual biting note. “He was with you two, after all.”

“Most likely, yes.”

“A choice made on a whim without considering the other factors that would make things worse for you,” Lotor starts to circle the man, looking similar to a predator waiting to attack its prey. “I may dislike the man but it’s easy to see that he cares for his friends, Keith included, so that would have discounted your accusation right away.”

Prorok says nothing.

“Keith,” Lotor says suddenly, gaining his attention. “Heads or tails?”

“Tails,” he replies with a confused frown.

Lotor’s smile is more teeth than anything. “Looks like you get to live a little bit longer,” he says when he looks to Prorok again. “And before you get your hopes up, you should know that it doesn’t mean anything good. Tell me, have I ever told you about the Pits?”

He’s not forced to go with them but Lotor’s sharp look has him following. Accompanied by two others who drag Prorok by his arms, they all leave the throne room through the back doors and walk towards an empty field. 

The familiar sound of snarling reaches his ears, and then Keith remembers what the ‘Pits’ happen to be.

It’s nothing too extravagant, a large hole in the ground that’s deep enough to stand in without being able to climb out—made to hold infected inside and effectively creating a trap for people who try to run.

Or, in this case, a punishment for someone who defied the leader.

They stop a few feet away from it, Prorok still held up by his arms but now kneeling on the dirt. Lotor seems pleased by this and a warm smile spreads across his face, one that Keith finds more frightening than his colder ones. 

“If only you listened,” Lotor says with sadness in his voice, crouching down in front of Prorok. “Then you’d still be able to live your life here with the rest of us.”

“N-No, please!”

“I don’t want to hear you beg, Prorok. Nothing will change my mind.” A roll of duct tape is held out to him and Lotor cuts a long piece off with Keith’s knife, placing it over Prorok’s mouth like he had done earlier in the day. “I’d rather you don’t scream as well. We can’t let anyone else hear you, after all!” Then, in one swift movement, he sinks the blade into Prorok’s thigh.

It’s pulled out a second later and the knife is tossed away, resting only a couple of feet away from Keith. He wipes the blood off on the grass before sliding it into its sheath, looking towards the community as the other two men start dragging Prorok to the hole.

“You’re not going to watch?” Keith jumps at the sound of Lotor’s voice, glancing over and noticing that he’s watching it all happen. “Why not? You did pick which end would go in first. Don’t you want to see?”

His stomach churns. “Not really, no.”

“Keith,” It’s said in an admonishing tone of voice. “You’re the one who picked tails, it’s only fair that you watch the punishment as it happens.”

“Fair to who?” Keith mutters. “Seems like I’m getting punished as well.”

Regardless of the tape on his mouth, Prorok still manages to be heard with muffled screams so terrified that Keith flinches. He grips his biceps tightly, nails digging into skin, and chances a peek over at what’s happening.

Bile rises at the sight.

The smell of blood must have whipped the infected into a frenzy because they’re clawing at Prorok’s jeans, tearing through the material to reach flesh. Prorok’s screams grow louder when they start biting his skin, tearing it away from bone and releasing wet gurgles as they eat. The two lackeys continue to hold onto Prorok’s arms, undeterred by his almost violent thrashing, and look as if they  _ enjoy _ what’s happening.

Lotor speaks up, “Lower him in further. If he dies then drop him.”

They do exactly as they’re told and Keith can look no further. 

He doesn’t exactly  _ forget  _ just how bad Lotor can get but there are moments of relaxation, where Keith feels at ease as he stands next to the man. Maybe it’s because Lotor presents himself with different masks all the time, obscuring the truest danger that lurks beneath, or possibly because Keith knows that he’ll usually be free from the worst the man can do.

_ Does that make me any better than him? _ Keith wonders.

A thud sounds through the air followed by a much more clear scream. It cuts off into choked noises within seconds and when Keith looks over again he sees one person missing, most likely tugged into the pit as the two lowered Prorok. He looks to Lotor next, unsurprised to see his blank face.

“Would you look at that?” Lotor says impassively. “I’m down another minion.” He snaps his finger and the one remaining looks up at him, dropping Prorok’s body and heading over to him like a dog to its master. “Come along, darling. It’s time for bed.”

Keith follows Lotor out of the field and thinks that the comparison isn’t actually wrong. All Lotor has to do is command and point and all the people that live here obey without a second thought, the need to do so ingrained in them so thoroughly. 

He raises his hands to his throat, feeling the phantom weight of the collar that he’s worn so many times already, and realizes the description fits him as well.

☆ ☆ ☆

It’s not quite a party, lacking the food and drinks they normally have, but Keith doesn’t know what else to call it. Everyone around him is dancing and cheering to a tune that spills from a small speaker, the battery powered object still managing to be heard over all of that.

Keith weaves through the crowd and people step away from him easily, a dash of fear in their eyes when they look at his face. This reaction most likely comes from what happened recently and he has to resist raising a hand to feel the fading bruises around his neck, displayed proudly to prove that he survived.

No one touches him because they’re afraid of receiving the same fate.

He approaches Lotor’s table slowly though the man doesn’t even look up at him, the dark expression on his face causing Keith to falter a few feet away from him. He stands there for a few seconds longer, debating what he should do, when someone bumps into him.

“Hey,” he says in irritation. “Watch where you’re—”

“Oh! I found you!”

Lance’s voice registers before his face does, looking bright-eyed and  _ pleased _ to see him. “You were looking for me?” Keith questions, crossing his arms. “Why? What sort of nefarious plan have you cooked up now?”

“Have a little faith in me!” Lance replies, looking offended. “I would never do such a thing!”

Keith raises an eyebrow.

“That was only one time and the car didn’t even go into the lake! We were fine!”

“Your definition of  _ fine  _ is very different from mine. You kept on screaming even though we weren’t falling in. I had to push you out so I could take the wheel.”

There’s a scowl on Lance’s face and he opens his mouth, obviously ready to retort, but his eyes slide away and he stops. “Right, sorry, I was looking for you,” he says. The cautious expression he wears almost seems out of place and the way he drops his voice to a whisper is even moreso, “Shiro is asking for you. I’m taking you to him.”

His eyes trail back to Lotor unbidden and after seeing him pay them no mind, he nods. “Lead the way.”

No one actually looks their way as Lance holds onto his wrist and guides him through the crowd. Keith still keeps his head low, just in case someone decides to stop them upon seeing his face. They stop at an unused buildings, one that has a loft above it, and he thinks he sees movement at the window.

“He’s upstairs,” Lance says. Keith doesn’t even complain about the shove he gets because it helps him take the first steps toward the door, glancing over at Lance when he says, “I’ll see you around.”

Keith doesn’t go inside yet, watching Lance walk off towards his apartment before looking at the crowd. They’re still partying away and he takes this as a sign to move forward, not wanting to linger in case they happen to look his way and report his  _ ‘suspicious activities’ _ to Lotor.

The inside of the building is as dusty and messy as the last time he’d been in here, a new store that was still being worked on when the virus started spreading. He walks through it carefully, not wanting to disturb anything and leave a sign that he was there. The stairs creak with almost every step he takes and despite knowing his friends would never lead him into a trap, apprehension begins to leak in.

Once he reaches the top he discovers that the door to the loft is wide open. Keith thinks he sees someone pacing in there, their footsteps much louder than his own. When he enters the room all of his doubt and worry drains away at the sight of Shiro, leaning against the doorway to watch him for a moment.

Shiro looks deep in thought, hair pinned back neatly and scruff trimmed. He’s wearing a white shirt this time, somehow clean, with his dark jeans tucked into his boots. His black jacket tops it all off perfectly and Keith has to stop his gaze from traveling down lower.

He takes a deep breath.

“Heard you were looking for me,” Keith says, trying his hardest to not smile when Shiro startles. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Keith!” Shiro exclaims with wide eyes. The shock leaves his face, replaced by a certain happiness that Keith only sees whenever it’s the two of them. Keith always feels pleased whenever he sees it because he likes thinking that he’s the reason it’s there. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You wanted me here and so here I am.” Keith says and moves in a slow circle, taking in the mostly bare room. “I’m not sure why you wanted to meet here when you could have talked to me back at your place, though.”

“It’s not like I’d have any privacy at the apartment, Keith. I wanted to make sure no one else could hear what I have to say.” Shiro sits down on a stool by the counter of what might have been a bar, flashing a smile that seems shaky at the edges. “It’s the kind of thing that’s for one person to hear.”

Keith’s heart skips a beat. “Go ahead then, I’m all ears.”

“I don’t know where to begin,” Shiro confesses.

“Take your time,” Keith replies. “I can wait.”

“You? Waiting?” Shiro’s words contain a teasing note. “Wow, we must be in another reality because I never thought I’d see the day.”

Keith rolls his eyes and is happy to hear Shiro’s soft laughter. Like he said he would, Keith waits for whatever Shiro has to say. The hesitation on Shiro’s face tells him that it might take a while so he continues to look around the room, doing so over and over until the silence is broken.

“How’s your throat doing?”

His hand comes up, fingers grazing over the discolored skin there. “Better now. It doesn’t hurt when I move it. Thankfully the guy was too weak or else it would probably be difficult to speak as well.”

The faint scowl on Shiro’s face is an indicator that he’s still upset about it. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner, maybe I could have prevented it from happening from the start.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Keith commands a bit harshly, narrowing his eyes. “It would have happened with or without you there. Prorok had it planned out for some time and thought that, with his success, he’d be able to get away with it.”

“Probably didn’t bother thinking about the consequences.”

“Everyone here might obey the rules but that doesn’t mean they like it.” Keith sighs. “There’s probably more than one person that doesn’t like me, Shiro—because I’m the one who’s treated as an equal to Lotor. Not by the man himself, of course, but I’m held to the same level as him in the way that I’m not to be touched by others.”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Shiro suddenly inquires. “Prorok?”

“Taken to the pits and served up as dinner for the infected,” Keith says slowly and leaves it at that, curiously eyeing the twitch of Shiro’s lips. 

“Good.”

Deciding to move on, Keith asks, “You really had Lance come and get me?” He doesn’t even try to hide his amusement. “I would have come if  _ you _ yourself asked me, Shiro.”

He’s rewarded with pink spreading across Shiro’s cheeks before he ducks his head, so different from the previous emotions he displayed. “I was nervous,” he says. This display of bashfulness is almost too much for Keith, bringing a small smile to his face and a warmth to his chest. “I still am, actually.”

Keith tilts his head. “Why?”

Shiro doesn’t say anything. He looks contemplative, a furrow to his brow as he mulls over whatever is on his mind. It seems like he came to a decision because he’s out of his chair and standing in front of Keith before he can even blink. The nervousness still lingers, Keith can see it on his face, but as seconds pass he seems to lose that tension.

"Remember Christmas? Under the mistletoe?"

It comes to mind easily, a memory always cherished because the moment was so special to him.

He knew what the plant meant but just played along, the fondness he felt only growing to adoration as Shiro stumbled his way through an explanation. The kiss was short, yes, but Keith can still vividly recall the way Shiro's lips felt against his own—a softness that contrasted nicely with the small hint of scruff Shiro had been sporting at the time.

Kissing Shiro was exhilarating, leaving him breathless even as he thinks about it. 

(He’s never had a kiss that caused such a reaction.)

"How could I forget?" Keith says quietly.

Shiro's gaze is fixed on him, intense in a way that makes his stomach  _ tremble. _ Nothing more is said about the subject and Keith licks his lips nervously in response to the tense silence, thrilled when he sees his eyes darken just a smidge.

There's no way to tell who took the first step, the two of them meeting in the middle and standing so close to each other. Keith stares up at Shiro, unable to look away, and likes the  _ desire _ he sees on his face. There's a pause where a decision is obviously being made, and he is ready to go with either. One will leave him disappointed; the other will leave him exuberant.

_ We shouldn't do this, _ Keith still tells himself as Shiro starts leaning down.  _ You  _ know _ what will happen. _

He ignores that argument, eyes fluttering shut as he starts to meet Shiro. He can feel Shiro's shaky breath over his lips and Keith is glad that he's not the only one that's nervous about kissing.

"Keith," Shiro whispers, and he shivers at how  _ wrecked _ he already sounds when they haven't even done anything. "I l—"

"Well, well, well. Look at what we have here!"

Keith jumps away from Shiro immediately, staring wide-eyed at the person standing at the doorway. He steps in front of Shiro, hoping to shield him with his body. "Lotor," he whispers with dread.

Lotor simply grins in their direction but it's different from his usual one, sharper than knives and matching the anger in his eyes. "Is this what you've been doing in your down time?" he asks, pointing a pistol in their direction. Keith stills when he switches the safety off, the click of it so loud in the room. "Sneaking behind my back so you can screw around with someone else?"

He’s too  _ afraid  _ to say anything right now because this is a new side to Lotor, one he’s never seen before, and he doesn’t know what will happen next. Keith forces it down and tries to speak evenly, “Lotor,  _ please  _ calm down.” He sends a mental apology to Shiro. “We were just talking.”

“It didn’t look like ‘just talking’ to me,  _ darling. _ ” The pet name is hissed out with enough poison to make him flinch. “And here I thought you’d continue to remain by my side even with your precious boy toy living in  _ my _ community.” Lotor steps in further, ice-cold expression fixed on his face. “Does another person have to get hurt so you learn your lesson, Keith?”

The air leaves his lungs when three others enter the room after him, fear trickling down his throat and gripping his heart so tight he feels like his chest might burst. It spreads like an infection, consuming him to the point where he’s locked in place as Lotor starts to slowly walk toward him.

“Well?” Lotor says with an eyebrow raised, staring down at him. 

Keith swallows around the lump in his throat and whispers, “Please don’t.”

It was the wrong thing to say, apparently.

Getting slapped doesn’t even register until he’s on the floor, elbows stinging from how they bumped against it roughly and cheek numb. Keith doesn’t let the small amount of pain stop him from lifting his head, eyes drawn to the three men that circle Shiro, attack dogs waiting for permission to strike.

All Lotor has to do is snap his fingers and they do.

Even if he could, Shiro doesn’t get the chance to try and fight back. One man knocks him down to the floor and the other two start going at him with kicks and punches. Keith’s vision starts to blur, quickly rising and rushing over to Lotor. He grips the man’s arm and peers up at him pleadingly.

“Lotor,  _ don’t, _ ” Keith’s voice breaks. “Don’t do this to him. He doesn’t deserve this.”

If it were any other time then he’d be feeling humiliated that he’s finally resorted to begging so soon but he feels none, instead feeling something  _ more  _ for Shiro. It starts off small, a flame on a candle, but it quickly expands like wildfire, blazing hot and leaving him engulfed in the flames. 

_ Why now? _ Keith thinks to himself, a tear slipping down his cheek.  _ Why didn’t it come sooner? _

“He doesn’t deserve this?” Lotor repeats, disbelief coloring his words. “Are you really saying that to me right now? After I caught the two of you in here? I personally think he deserves far worse but this is as much a punishment for you as it is for him.” 

Keith sinks to the floor again, unable to look away. Shiro has his face hidden by his arms, trying to shield himself, and makes no noise as the three men continue to beat him. It’s not until a punch is aimed at it when something flies free, a cry of pain that makes Keith feel as though he’d been hurt as well.

His breath hitches when Shiro suddenly looks at him, expression resigned and regretful. He sees the way his hand twitches in Keith’s direction, like he’s trying to reach for him, and he almost starts crying right then and there.

“Stop hurting him!” Keith shouts desperately, unable to stop himself because it’s too much. “You’ll  _ kill _ him.”

“That’s the point.”

Shiro has blood on his face now, slowly oozing down his forehead, but he still doesn’t look away from Keith. 

There’s a choice to make here, one that he’ll both hate and won’t regret since it’ll keep Shiro from harm. Keith wipes at his eyes and tears his gaze away, staring up at Lotor now.

“If you stop then I’ll stay by your side,” he says, clear enough to catch his attention. Lotor holds up a hand and he hears the other men cease their actions. “I won’t look in his direction and I’ll keep my mouth shut around him. No more sneaking off to see him, either. I’ll remain by your side like before if you just leave him  _ alone. _ ”

Lotor raises an eyebrow. “That’s all I need to do for your complete obedience?” he asks.

Keith lowers his head and while shame eats at his insides, he knows he’s making the right choice because Shiro will be left  _ alive. _ He feels as though he’s sold his soul to the devil when he says, “Yes.”

“Then I’ll agree to these terms.” The words make Keith slump in relief, insides quaking from how strong the emotion is. He hears the other men leave the room and looks up at Lotor, not missing the smug expression he wears. “I’ll even be nice and allow you to say goodbye to him.” Lotor says, like he’s done  _ Keith _ a favor. “After that you’ll leave him here and inform one of your friends to come and retrieve him.”

He nods.

Fingers brush over his cheek before the hand grips his chin, nails digging into skin. “I’ll be right outside,” Lotor says in a low voice. “Don’t try anything or I’ll kill him myself.”

Keith stays in the same spot and watches Lotor leave the room, waiting until the door is shut behind him before scrambling over to Shiro. His hands shake as he reaches out for him, resting one on his cheek and wiping blood away with the other.

Shiro merely gazes at him sadly. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he says in a raspy voice and, with help from Keith, sits up. “He’ll never let you go.”

“I know,” Keith replies quietly. “But I couldn’t let you die.”

He leans forward to press their foreheads together, only briefly, and lets this small touch fill him up with the courage he wish he had moments ago. Keith lets out a breath and allows himself to swipe his thumb across Shiro’s cheek before dropping his hands to stare at him.

“What happens now?” Shiro whispers. “You’re just going to stay by his side because of me?” Then, with the smallest break in his voice, “I won’t ever get to see you again?”

Something inside Keith flares up with pain, an open wound that’s rubbed raw. He takes in Shiro’s miserable expression and feels it again, guilt also starting to make a home within him. 

He’s the one that caused this.

“You will,” Keith says after the silence drags on, nodding to himself as a plan starts coming together in his head. It’s not really a plan, actually, since it’s more like a goal that Keith knows that he’ll reach no matter the cost. 

“What about Lotor?”

“He’ll get what’s coming to him,” Keith answers simply, squashing down the urge to reach out for Shiro again. He takes a deep breath and gazes at him for longer, searing the image of his face into memory just in case. It’s covered in blood, a bit of swelling here and there, and all it does is fuel the rage that’s swirling around inside him. “I can promise you that.”

“Keith,” Shiro whispers. “Be careful, stay safe.”

It’s so like Shiro to be concerned for Keith when he’s the one who just got hurt. “I’ve been doing that the whole time I’ve been with him,” he replies with a wry smile. “With only a few slip-ups here and there. I think it’s time I stop doing that.”

Shiro stares at him for longer and Keith gazes back steadily, the plan half-formed in his head—the main idea isn’t one he’s going to shy away from. Finally, Shiro nods as if accepting what Keith is going to do.

There’s a knock on the door, a sign that his time is up.

Keith lets himself to brush his fingers along Shiro’s cheek again, taking care in not touching his injuries. “Keep your head down,” he warns softly. “I don’t know when I’ll see you next.”

He doesn’t wait for Shiro’s reply and rises to his feet, forcing his eyes away so he won’t linger and anger Lotor once again. Keith steps out in the hallway and takes a deep breath, looking to the side and raising an eyebrow when he sees Lotor leaning against the wall.

“Well?” Lotor gestures to the direction of the stairs with his head. “Aren’t you going to go tell your friends?”

“You’ll leave him alone, right?” Keith prods, still wary.

Lotor rolls his eyes. “I’m a man of my word, Keith. You should know that by now.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“I was about to ask how everything went,” Lance is saying, the look of excitement on his face replaced with one of concern. “But something tells me that it didn’t go so well. Do you not feel the same way?”

They’re standing outside his apartment building. Keith can feel eyes on him from all around, making sure he doesn’t act out of line. He hates it.

“What?” Keith shakes his head. “That’s not it, no. Lotor found us and accused me of  _ sneaking around _ to see Shiro.” His hands start to tremble so he clenches them into fists, eyes on the ground when he feels them start to sting. Don’t cry again, Keith. “He brought in some men to beat Shiro and told me to tell one of you to go retrieve him.”

“What!?” A hand grips his arm. “Is he okay!? Why didn’t you st—”

“I couldn’t,” he hisses, tearing himself away from Lance’s grasp. “Not at first. Lotor would have had Shiro killed if I hadn’t offered up my obedience.”

“You did what.” The way it’s phrased as a flat statement rather than a question goes to show how even  _ Lance  _ thinks it’s a terrible choice to make.

Keith ignores that, already turning away. “Shiro is still in the loft and will most likely remain there until you take him back to your apartment. I don’t know if I’ll be able to see you all again. If I can then I hope it’s sooner rather than later.”

Lance’s reply is quiet, “Good luck, Keith. I know you’ll need it.”

He doesn’t respond to that, because he knows that Lance is right.

☆ ☆ ☆

Life moves on.

Keith keeps his promise, reverting back to the loyal shell that he was before his friends arrived here. Except he’s not as fractured, shards pieced together and bringing the courage to do something more. He stays quiet and he listens, observing every movement in Lotor’s orbit.

The heavy weight of Lotor’s gaze stays locked on him no matter what he’s doing, sending a prickle of unease down his spine at the feeling of it. There are no complaints, though, because as far as he can tell Keith is on his best behavior again—in body but not in mind.

He’s just waiting for the perfect moment.

Which comes a week and a half later, when he’s brought up to Lotor’s office so the man can check on everything in there. 

Keith doesn’t understand what that means until he’s waved into the room, looking at all the knick-knacks that rest on the many shelves and the weapons that are hanging on the wall. He was here once before but it was only briefly, left standing by the door while Lotor asked his father something, so now he takes the time to eye everything.

A familiar object captures his attention, the point looking extra sharp. “You don’t use it anymore?” Keith asks curiously, glancing back at the man. “Never thought you’d retire it.”

“There’s no reason for me to use it,” Lotor replies candidly, shrugging. “I only used it when I would go on supply runs for my father, now I can simply command others to leave this community for me.”

“Not even to kill people?”

“When the need arises, sure, but not always. Why waste my blade on people lower than me when there are better ways to cause their deaths?” Lotor stares at him for longer before nodding to himself, as if reaching some conclusion. “You should pick it up. I’d like to see how it looks in your hands.”

He removes the sword from its mount, taking care to not disturb the sheath that rests on a hook beneath it. He fits his hand around the handle and grips it tightly, stepping away from the wall to feel the weight of it. “Not too heavy,” he mutters to himself and slowly brings it up. “But not too light, either. It’s kinda perfect.”

It’s pretty, too. Black in color with a gold ring that separates the blade from the hilt. It has the smallest curve as well, and Keith wonders if that makes it easier to swing it through the air. He tests it out and nearly smiles at the easy movement.

“I’m well aware,” Lotor’s voice is dry and yet when Keith glances over at him he can see approval in his eyes. “It feels even better when you use it against the infected. If it’s kept sharp then you can easily cut off their heads or even sink the blade in quick, moving onto the next before the body falls.”

“Definitely sounds better than using a small knife.”

Lotor laughs.

Keith continues to stand there with it, testing it in both hands while still keeping tabs on the other male. “Maybe I can try it out on my next supply run?”

“Maybe,” Lotor pushes himself off the desk, heading to the counter behind it where his alcohol is kept. “Want something?”

He can feel a grin starting to form and has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop it, releasing a hum of contemplation. “Surprise me.” Keith answers, despite the fact that he doesn’t even drink. There are butterflies in his stomach when Lotor turns his attention to the drinks, back to Keith.

The floor doesn’t creak as he takes cautious steps towards him, arm shaking somewhat as he raises the weapon in hand. His heart starts to race, the beat of it loud in his ears, and all he can do is keep his gaze on Lotor while watching every small movement he makes.

Keith stands in front of the desk, thankfully just within reach, and waits.

“I don’t have much left in here,” Lotor is saying, turning around and holding one glass in each hand. “Still, I think you’ll enjoy—”

Without hesitation, Keith jabs the sword forward and easily sinks the blade into Lotor’s gut. He pulls it out and does it again, feeling vicious satisfaction when he catches the fury and betrayal in his eyes. 

“Sorry,” Keith says, hopping on top of the desk and pushing the blade in further with a twist of his hand. “You were saying?”

One glass barely misses him while the other falls from Lotor’s hand and this time, Keith doesn’t bother to stop his grin. He pulls the sword out and stabs it in a much higher spot, aiming for his ribs. 

Lotor lets out a pained groan, eyes burning as he glares at Keith. “I’ll kill you for this,” he hisses out, hands wrapping around the blade. Blood spills freely as he grips it tightly and every time he pulls some of it out, Keith simply sinks it in further. “I’ll kill all of  _ them, _ too.”

“No,” Keith says flippantly. “You won’t.” He twists his hand again before pulling it out, sinking it into his abdomen only a second later. “You are going to die here, Lotor, and I am going to walk out of here without caring that I’ve just killed you.” Keith grips the handle with both hands and tries to drag it upwards. “No one will know until I’m long gone.”

“That’s what you think.”

A flash of movement has Keith raising his arm up, just in time for Lotor to smash a full bottle of alcohol against it. Glass seems to scatter everywhere, some of the alcohol spraying on him, and it’s an action that gives Lotor a chance while Keith falters.

He lands on the floor hard, shards digging into his back, and then hands wrap around his throat.

“Seems like Prorok had the right idea,  _ darling. _ ” Lotor’s lips curl into a sneer as he starts to apply pressure. Keith claws at his wrists with one hand, the other scrambling around the carpet for  _ anything _ that might help him. “At least I get the chance to do it and I’ll  _ absolutely _ enjoy myself.”

His hand wraps around a long fragment of glass. “No,” he grits out, swiftly driving the shard into Lotor’s ear.

Keith pushes the man off of him once the hold on him loosens, picking up the sword that clattered to the floor and pointing it at him once he stands. “I’m going to let you turn,” he states, dragging the tip up his shirt and stopping at his throat. “You, Lotor, will die today and your body will continue to live on despite that,” he says with a smile. “Just like you feared.”

If Lotor replies then it remains unheard, because Keith jabs the blade in once he finishes speaking and repeats the action two more times. Lotor stares up at him with so much hatred when he pulls it out for the final time, tilting his head and watching as he presses down weakly on the bleeding wounds.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed as he continues to stand there, watching the one he hates the most bleed out beneath him. Keith only moves when Lotor stops, grabbing the sheath off the wall and then sitting on the corner of the desk that’s closest to the door, waiting.

The soft wheezing is what he hears first, wet sounding as it grows louder. Keith leans over to see its eyes open, the dark color now light and cloudy. Thankfully, it hasn’t noticed him yet so he slowly starts to make his way out of the room—flicking the lock before he shuts the door.

Keith stands in the hallway and takes a deep breath, disbelief coursing through him over the fact that he actually managed to  _ kill  _ Lotor. He knows that what happened within this community will never leave him, but this death actually lifts a weight off his shoulders.

He’s free.

There’s no time to waste, though, so he swings the strap of the sheath onto one shoulder and grips the sword tight in his hand. Keith moves through the hallways until he reaches his rooms, shutting the door behind him and attempting to calm his racing heart. He turns when he’s ready, eyeing everything in the room with distaste.

While he’d much rather leave everything behind he knows that he’ll need any kind of supplies to get out of here, something that will be hard to come by for however long after he leaves this place.

His old backpack is still where he hid it, stuffed beneath the bed and still containing his old supplied. The clothes in there are swapped out for newer ones, Keith picking picking out the plain ones and feeling immense satisfaction when he ‘accidentally’ tears the nicer ones that Lotor picked out for him with his sword.

(It’s his now, until Keith feels safe enough to part with it.)

Food will be something he’ll have to get on the way out, or perhaps when Keith makes his way over to his friends. He ties his sword sheath to the handle on his backpack and then grabs his red jacket, pulling it on and then shouldering his bag.

Keith leaves the room, glad that he’ll never have to see it again.

☆ ☆ ☆

His first order of business is to release the infected from the arena, making it over there without being detected and unlocking the cages with a simple flip of a switch. The chains are released with a press of a button and he runs off before they can converge on him, ducking into one of the empty buildings when he sees someone walking in his direction.

A few minutes pass before they come close enough, whistling as they stroll down the street. Keith knows they’ve seen the infected by the way it tapers off into a gasp, throwing himself out the door and shoving his sword through their back. 

The woman collapses to the ground with a pained shout, gun flying away from her grasp. He pulls the blade out and snatches up the gun as he moves along, continuing his journey without looking back.

Screaming fills the air only seconds later.

Keith moves fast, knowing that the sound will alert anyone who can hear (and, judging by how loud she is, he assumes that  _ everyone _ will be able to). He ducks into another building at the sound of people rushing in the direction he’s left, waiting several seconds after they’ve passed him before stepping out again.

One glance tells him their backs are to him, so he raises the gun and aims below their waists.

This gun isn’t that great with the long distance but Keith makes it work, shooting four people in the thigh or knees and making them fall to floor. The ones that remain standing, only two, cannot fight off the infected on their own—too panicked to remember that shooting them in the head is the better option.

They go down fast.

Keith keeps going.

No one else gets in his way so he arrives at the apartment without any trouble. He forgoes the way he usually gets in, not wanting to scare his friends, and walks through the front doors. Keith quickly goes up the stairs to the fourth floor, putting the sword in its sheath and gripping his pistol tight enough to ensure it won’t leave his grasp. He takes slow steps down the hallway until he reaches the apartment that contains his friends.

The doorknob turns, and Keith pushes the door with little force to allow it to swing open slowly. There’s nobody in the living room and it’s too quiet, and when he walks into the room it causes the floorboards to creak. He doesn’t call out for his friends and keeps the gun raised, eyes flitting to potential hiding spots.

He’s hoping that his friends haven’t been taken, the possibility that Lotor may have planned something like this in case of his death high in his mind, and has to fight the thought that they might be dead because no, they can’t be.

After all that they’ve gone through, after being told that Lotor personally killed them only to discover it a lie, he’s not going to be separated from them any longer.

Not even death will change that.

Another door opens and he points the weapon in that direction, eyes narrowed as heavy footsteps gradually come closer and closer. Keith rests a finger on the trigger and takes a deep breath, ready to—

Shiro steps out of the hallway, and he immediately lowers the gun.

“Keith!” he exclaims with wide eyes. Keith stares at his face, pleased to see that his previous injuries are looking far better than when he first received them. “What are you doing here? I thought—”

“Where’s everyone else?” Keith cuts him off worriedly, peering around him and seeing no one. 

“They’re hiding because they didn’t know who came in and I volunteered to fight off whoever it may be.” Shiro grimaces. “We’ve had to do that a couple of times already.”

“Anyone hurt?”

“Only a few cuts and bruises.” Shiro stands up straighter. “What happened?”

“Go back and tell them to get ready,” Keith instructs instead of answering. “Pack the usual supplies. Do you have food?” At Shiro’s nod he continues, “I can put some in my own bag since I have plenty of space, we’re going to need all we can take because I don’t know how long it’ll be until we come across a store.”

“Why, though? What’s going on?”

“We’re leaving,” Keith says with finality. “Lotor is dead but that won’t give us all the time we need. It won’t be long before his body is found so we have to move as soon as we can.”

Shiro nods again. “Got it.” He takes a few steps towards the other room and pauses, turning to face Keith again. “You’re coming too, right?”

“Where else would I go?” Keith counters, feeling his cheeks grow warm at the happy smile he gets in return. Once Shiro leaves the room, he shuts the door and walks into the kitchen. He grabs three cans of food and a handful of granola bars, stuffing it into his bag along with four water bottles (two small ones and two regular sized ones). 

The weight of everything isn’t too bad but he knows that if he added in more it would be too much, so he searches around for another bag to carry more and comes across an empty duffel bag beneath the sink.

“Need help with that?”

Keith barely manages to not hit his head when he startles, sitting back and glaring up at Lance. “Yes,” he says and throws the bag at him. “Put all the food in there and do it as fast as you can, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” Lance moves away and does what he’s told. He speaks up as he’s moving around the kitchen, wearing a smile that Keith sees only briefly, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Me too,” Keith replies quietly.

Everyone starts drifting into the living room once they’ve got the food and water packed, placing their bags on the couches before going around the room to shift through the shelves and trinkets. Shiro must see his confused look because he moves closer and leans in close, explaining in a hushed voice.

“We hid some ammo around just in case they tried to take it from us,” Shiro’s breath ghosts over his ear and Keith barely suppresses his shiver. “The whole community not bothering us worked in our favor.”

“Guess so,” Keith answers casually, turning so he’s facing him. “And they won’t even think to right now, they’re too busy. Better to be safe than sorry when getting out of here, though. I don’t know if Lotor had a contingency plan in place.” 

Shiro’s face turns blank, though Keith sees a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “You said he’s dead, right?” he asks. “Did you kill him?”

Keith keeps his head high, staring back at him without remorse. “I did.” He pulls the sword out of its sheath, showcasing the blood along the blade. “With his own sword, too. Left him to turn in his office because he doesn’t deserve the mercy that’s complete death, a monster like him should become one.”

An expression of dark satisfaction appears next, Shiro taking a step closer. “I agree.” Keith twitches when fingers skim over his wrist before the hand encloses around it, thumb brushing over his pulse as Shiro asks, “Can I say something?” 

“Go ahead.”

“It’s good to have you back,” Shiro murmurs with a smile.

Keith returns it with a smaller one. “It’s good to be back.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Distant gunfire and yelling greet them when they go outside. Keith still makes sure they play it safe, forcing everyone to hide in alleyways whenever it seems like someone’s getting close to them, and they make it close to the front gates with no trouble.

They’re already open, the guards that are usually there dead on the ground while a large number of infected slowly trickle in. They duck into a building before they are noticed and Keith shares a look with Shiro once inside. He takes in the concern that’s on his face and then he’s pushing the gun into Shiro’s hands, pulling out the sword.

“Keith,” Shiro hisses out, gripping his arm. “You can’t take them on your own!”

“If we use guns then we’ll just draw in more,” Keith whispers, and then smiles in hopes of reassuring him. “I’ll be fine, okay? I barely got this sword today but what’s so hard about swish, swish, stab?”

Shiro looks even more worried.

“That’s a joke,” he mutters and loosens his grip on the handle, turning to the rest of them. “Just use your knives on them. Knock the infected to the floor if you have to.” His voice grows stronger. “We’re getting out of here, guys, and  _ nothing  _ will stop us from doing so. We’ll make it out alive. All of us.”

“Wow,” Lance says after a beat. “When did you become such a  _ great _ a motivational speaker? I feel even better already!”

Keith rolls his eyes.

Allura throws a stray brick through the window of a different building on the other side of the street, which catches the attention of most infected and allows them to start heading to the gates. They knife any that drift too close and Keith chooses not to use his sword for this, not wanting to risk their escape by trying something new.

Shots are fired behind them and that makes everyone rush out. No bullets hit any of them or get near them, though, and when Keith chances a glance around them he sees that they’re actually hitting the dead.

He doesn’t look back to see who’s shooting.

They don’t stop running once they’re out of the community, keeping strong grips on their bags and staying out of the streets in case other lackeys decide to chase after them. This is when Keith uses his sword, swinging it towards the heads of infected and chopping it off before they can chase after them. The others help whenever there are more than two and Keith doesn’t know how many they’ve gone through, all of them covered in blood but still going strong.

Everyone is determined to get far away from here, himself included.

The chance to rest only comes when they reach a hidden park in a smaller neighborhood, the playground broken down and the grass wild around it. Any stray infected are taken care of by Allura and her knife. 

Everyone sits on the wooden tables that are scattered around and Keith drifts away from them, picking out a decently shaded spot at the bottom of a hill. A tall tree covers up the sun as he stands there, trying to enjoy himself and relax.

Except he can’t help but scan the area around him, every noise he hears only adding to his wariness. His gaze flicks from friend to friend, mentally checking them off when he sees that each one is safe and sound. He actually does this several times, body tense when he suddenly doesn’t spot Shiro anywhere.

Before he can take a step forward to start searching for him, Shiro’s voice comes from the side.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing.”

Keith closes his eyes and breathes out slowly. “Can’t relax when we could be attacked at any moment,” he replies, glancing over and huffing at the stern look that Shiro wears. “I’m just worried that we were followed somehow. I don’t want any of you to get hurt.”

“We can take care of ourselves,” Shiro says, expression shifting to a much more softer one. Keith looks away before he can get caught staring for too long, not quite ready to dissect what it could mean just yet. “Everyone’s keeping an eye out.”

“Really?”

“They felt the same as you.”

A breeze blows a few strands of hair into his face and Keith sighs when they remain unperturbed as he attempts to brush them away. It’s definitely gotten longer, but not so much that it requires a cut. Still, it is bothersome so he places his backpack on the ground and crouches down in front of it, searching through the much smaller pockets for something that can help him.

Keith comes up with one of his hair ties and pulls his hair back into a ponytail, feeling the cool breeze along the nape of his neck now when he rises.

Shiro’s hitched breath causes him to look over curiously, catching his wide eyes. “What?” he asks, self-consciously touching his hair.

“Nothing, I’ve just never seen it up like that,” Shiro speaks in a hushed tone, sounding as if he’s  _ awed _ by his change in hairstyle. How strange. “It looks really good.”

“Thank you?” In spite of his own confusion, Keith can feel heat rise to his cheeks and prays that his blush isn’t too obvious. “You might need one soon,” he teases to divert attention away from himself, reaching out to tug on one of the stray locks. “Maybe yours will surpass mine.”

“Sounds like a nightmare, especially with the heat that’ll be upon us?” Shiro shakes his head, tiny smile fixed on his face. “I think I’ll cut it when I get the chance.”

“Make sure to shave that beard off as well, it’s hideous,” Keith lies, fully aware of the many thoughts he’s had regarding said scruff. “If it gets any worse then you’ll look like a cryptid who belongs in the woods.”

“Oh my god,” Shiro says in astonishment. “You’re one of  _ those  _ people.” Then, with obvious delight in his voice, “Were you an alien kid? Please tell me that you were.”

“They’re real, Shiro!” Keith responds fiercely. “We might not be able to prove it anymore but I still know, deep in my heart, that aliens are still out there.”

He feels no embarrassment over what he’s just revealed about himself because Shiro cracks up, head tossed back as he laughs gleefully over it.

It’s a captivating sight, one that takes Keith’s breath away as he continues to stare, and he’s soon drawn into exuberance by adding in his own laughter—a moment where everything feels normal, two friends laughing over something _ silly _ together without worrying about the world around them.

Their amusement slowly dies down, leaving behind a comfortable quiet that actually helps him relax. He sheds his jacket and drops it down on his bag before stretching out his arms, closing his eyes for a moment and simply enjoying Shiro’s presence.

“I hope we find a place soon,” Keith comments. “I’d rather not sleep on the grass tonight, too many bugs.”

He gets no response to that and instead hears worry in Shiro’s voice when he asks, “What happened to your arm?”

A hand wraps around his elbow, the grip of it gentle and the touch sending warmth through him. The metal fingers that sweep over his bicep make him shiver, the contrast of temperature being one reason for that reaction. He looks down to see what exactly has Shiro so concerned, the mess of uneven, scabbed over cuts along his skin.

“Oh,” Keith says, honestly surprised. “I think it’s from the glass bottle that Lotor broke on it. I didn’t even realize that it actually hurt me.”

“Keith…” His name is said in an exhale, exasperated with an undertone of, what seems to be, fondness. But maybe Keith is looking into it too deeply, projecting his own hopes and feelings, so he figures it’s probably not what he thinks. “Did he hurt you anywhere else?” Shiro asks. “Don’t try to lie, either. I want to know.”

While he is interested in knowing  _ why _ exactly Shiro would like to know the details, he doesn’t question it and answers him, “He tried to choke me, nothing more.” 

Keith lifts a hand and skims his fingers over his throat, recalling the rage in Lotor’s eyes as he squeezed it. It still surprises him that Lotor was actually determined to kill him, too used to only receiving a mild amount of pain for his anger.

“Except for your hand.”

“That one is my fault,” Keith explains, flipping it over and showing the cut across his palm. There’s dried blood on it but he doesn’t think the injury is bleeding anymore. It barely stings so it’s probably not deep. “It happened when I shoved a glass shard into Lotor’s ear. I guess I held it too tight.”

The hand holding his arm leaves, cradling his own as a thumb brushes over the small cut. “You know what they say,” Shiro murmurs in a low voice and Keith keeps still as his hand is brought close to his mouth, trapped in his intense gaze. “Kissing it will make it better.”

“Is that true?” he sounds breathless, even to his own ears.

Shiro responds by kissing his palm.

It sends off a spark across his body, making Keith shiver even with how short is it. He can feel Shiro’s scruff this way, rubbing along his skin, and it sends off even more tingles. Their eyes stay locked in a stare as Shiro pulls up and maybe that’s what causes Keith to lean in, a tug at his very being that desperately wants to feel Shiro’s lips on his own again.

“Keith! Shiro! I think we’re gonna start moving!”

Keith startles, cheeks aflame as he looks over at Coran. He looks apologetic as he stands a few feet away from them, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face as his eyes go from Keith to Shiro and back.

He clears his throat, hand falling away from Shiro’s as he gives Coran his full attention. “Moving?” he repeats. “As in leaving? Is everyone rested and ready?”

“Just about, yeah,” Coran says. “Waiting on you two.”

With a nod, Keith grabs his backpack off the ground and wipes off any dirt on there. He shoulders it and lets the jacket rest off one of the straps, ready to follow after Coran when his wrist is grabbed. The hold keeps him in place and when he glances back at Shiro he receives an imploring look.

“We’ll be there soon,” Keith says to Coran, offering a smile. “I forgot to tell Shiro something.”

Coran grin grows mischievous. “Did you now?” 

Keith glares at him until he lifts his palms and turns, heading back to the others. He waits until Coran is far away enough and then faces Shiro again, a frown on his face.

“What is it?”

Shiro looks nervous. “Can we talk?” he asks with a hint of pink on his face. “When we get the chance to?”

The question sends both excitement and panic rushing through his body because it could mean a lot of things, good or bad. He has an inkling of what the topic of their future conversation may hold but doesn’t prod for the information, wondering if Shiro can hear the fast beat of his heart like he can. 

“Yeah,” Keith answers quietly. “We’ll make time, later. When we find a good place to hole up in.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Their accommodation for the night ends up being one of the fancier hotels in a small city. 

It’s definitely seen better days but it’s the only shelter they find that can hold them all. They clear out all the infected in the lobby by luring them outside and killing them there. Keith even volunteers to kill the ones on the floors they plan on using, having an easier time wielding his sword.

He only manages to clear out three floors, the fourth one already empty and the stairs to the fifth floor blocked off by some furniture. Keith hears no infected behind it so he leaves it be, heading back downstairs to keep exploring the building with his friends.

The kitchen is the first thing they find. Sadly, there isn’t any food, not even a crumb in the pantry. 

Keith actually finds the security room and, ignoring the terrible smell wafting off the dead body in the corner, picks up the pistol and extra ammo off the floor before shutting it for good. Pidge takes it off his hands and Coran sits with her as he teaches her how to dismantle and clean the pieces, a skill he picked up from someone in their old community, apparently.

Allura and Lance actually search through the hotel rooms in hopes of finding new clothes to wear, bringing back extra piles of them for everyone else. Keith picks out a dark red top, the logo of whatever was on it too faded to make out. 

Shiro actually discovers something edible for them in the form of dried fruit packs, returning to where they’ve settled down on the sofas in the lobby and tossing them on the small table before plopping down next to Keith.

Everyone digs in happily, pulling out their water bottles and taking small sips as they snack on them. Keith only eats when Shiro holds out a pack of dried peaches, rolling his eyes at the grin that Shiro wears and snatching it from his hands.

A comfortable silence blankets the room, everyone fully relaxing after spending so much time being tense and wary. Keith still struggles to do so, aware that there’s no way that anyone can tear him away from this piece of happiness he’s obtained again but a small part of him still expects Lotor to storm in and drag him away.

It’s something he’ll have to unlearn, only this time he won’t be alone.

Keith sits up suddenly, curiously looking at all of his friends. “What did you guys do after the cabin?” he asks. “How did you find that community?”

“We started searching for you the moment we found out you were missing,” Allura says, the others quieting down to let her speak. “There wasn’t much to go on, even the tire tracks ended before we could get too far, so we decided to leave.”

“Yeah,” Pidge has a grin on her face, one that tells Keith she’s up to no good. “We were all worried, of course, but Shiro was the most of us all. He even spent the most time out there when we decided to venture out for clues. Sometimes, we had to drag him to bed so he could get some rest.”

“Really?” Keith blinks in surprise, seeing Shiro’s red face. “You would have worked yourself into the ground, Shiro…” Even though he says this there’s a small flutter in his chest and he has to try his best to suppress his smile.

Shiro, somehow, grows redder. “You would have done the same for me,” he mumbles.

At this point in time, Keith would have probably moved to the ends of the Earth to find Shiro if he’d been the one taken; worn to the bone, most likely, but feeling completely  _ triumphant  _ over having his favorite person by his side again. 

He would do anything for Shiro, he realizes, and it’s not at all terrifying since it fits alongside the feelings that continue to grow.

“Yeah,” Keith ends up saying. “I would.”

He’s dragged from their little world by Coran clearing his throat, feeling a bit embarrassed at the hush that fell while he’d been lost in his moment with Shiro. He pointedly ignores Pidge’s grin.

“To think you were stolen right under our noses,” Allura says, a spark of anger entering her eyes. “What kind of friends are we? None of us even  _ thought  _ about Lotor keeping you in a community, either.” She reaches out to grab his hands, looking so guilty. “I’m sorry it took us so long to find you.”

“Don’t be,” Keith replies softly, squeezing her hands. “We still came together in the end, and now we’re all here.”

“And we’ll stay here,” Lance cuts in, looking away from where he’d been tossing the fruits into Hunk’s mouth. “Maybe not  _ here _ here, in this hotel, but I mean we’ll still be alive!”

They continue talking until the daylight fades away and brings forth darkness, everyone drifting off to the open hotel rooms and scattered across different floors. Pidge actually discovered that the showers on the second floor worked, so everyone scrambled to snag their own before going to bed.

Washing away all the dirt and sweat felt like being reborn to Keith, using the hotel brand hair products and soap to help achieve this. The water may be cold but Keith doesn’t actually care, letting it wash over his face and hair as happy exclamations and singing drift down the hall and reach his ears.

It seems like everyone is as pleased as him.

He tugs on new clothes, the shirt from the pile that Lance brought, jeans found in an unopened suitcases because they looked similar to his old ones, and the underwear and sports bra that was at the bottom of his bag. Keith feels very refreshed as he heads to the third floor, where he picked out his room for the night.

It also happens to be the one Shiro is staying on, apparently, which he only discovers as he’s stopped in the middle of the hallway by Shiro’s soft voice.

“Hey.”

Keith turns to see Shiro standing in the doorway of the hotel room across his own, with an expression so serious that his concern leaks into his voice when he asks, “What’s wrong?”

Shiro’s smile soothes him somewhat but he’s unable to fully relax because of Shiro’s tense posture. “Nothing, nothing, I just—” He ducks his head and Keith hears the deep breath he takes. “Can we have that talk now?”

He’s already nodding before Shiro finishes speaking, waiting for him to allow Keith entry and stepping inside his temporary room.  _ Or permanent, _ Keith muses.  _ Depending on how well we do here. _

The door shuts behind him and Keith sits down on the bed, watching as Shiro starts to pace. He’s also wearing new clothes, dark grey jeans that hug his thighs nicely and a simple black shirt. Keith would bet that he’ll change out of the top when it starts getting hot again.

“Do you need a minute?” Keith asks after a long period of silence.

Shiro looks relieved. “Yeah, sorry, I do,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I had this whole thing planned out, you know? Thought of everything I could say but whenever I look at you it just all goes away so… can you wait for a little bit longer, please?”

“Waiting is my middle name,” Keith replies and flops back on the bed, scowling when he hears Shiro’s soft chuckle. “Don’t laugh at me, Shirogane.”

“I’m not laughing at you, Keith.” A pause. “No, wait, I am.  _ Keith Waiting Kogane  _ sounds like a rockstar name, are you sure you aren’t one? Actually, you don’t have to answer—your hair is a dead giveaway.”

Keith grabs one of the pillows and throws it in Shiro’s direction. He knows it hit its mark when Shiro makes a noise of protest.

Afterwards, Keith just listens to the soft sound of his feet moving along the carpet. He stares up at the ceiling, tracking the squiggles with his eyes and starting over whenever he blinks and loses it. He waits, even though his heart is threatening to jump out of his chest, and tries not to think about how everything can go wrong.

Shiro clears his throat and Keith sits up so fast.

“The last time we tried to talk ended in a disaster, I know, but do you remember what I asked?” Shiro asks, continuing when Keith nods. “Do you remember what I was about to say before Lotor came in?”

“I don’t think so?” Keith tries to remember and then frowns, shaking his head. “No, sorry. The panic afterwards became the only thing on my mind.”

“Understandable,” Shiro holds out a hand. “Come here, please?”

When Keith takes his hand he’s pulled, standing in front of Shiro with little space between them. He stares at him, eyes drawn to his lips when Shiro licks them before snapping up to his face. “You didn’t have to kiss me under the mistletoe,” Keith says just to break the hush around them. “Nobody would have said anything if you denied it, so, why did you?”

There’s a quirk to Shiro’s mouth, like he’s amused about something. “You should know that I didn’t do it because it was  _ ‘tradition,’  _ Keith. I did it because I wanted to.”

“Oh,” Keith blinks. “Did you want to kiss me that day? In the loft?”

“I did,” Shiro shifts closer. “Did you want to kiss me earlier? At the bottom of the hill?”

He cheeks grow hot when he says, “I did.”

“You can if you still want to,” Shiro’s voice is so low, and the expression on his face can only be described as desire. The same feeling starts to rise up within him and Keith has to resist the urge to complete the distance. “But I’d like to clarify something first.”

Keith catches the small hint of hope on his face, the nervousness in his posture, and starts to get an idea of what’s about to happen. He remembers the world around him and tears his hand from Shiro’s grasp, taking a large step away from him. 

“We shouldn’t,” he says flatly but oh, does he want to. “It’s not a good idea.”

“Keith…” Shiro reaches out for him and Keith shifts out of the way again, dropping his gaze to the floor after he catches the flicker of  _ hurt _ on his face. “Why not?”

The words fall out of his mouth before he can think to stop them, something that used to be so hard to admit to anyone else that had been in his life. It now spills out freely, in the presence of someone he trusts with his own life and more.

Maybe that’s why he speaks. Because it’s Shiro.

“I’m scared, okay?”

He doesn’t look up to see Shiro’s reaction, feeling the silence close in on him as if he were trapped in a small box, barely any air left to breathe. 

“I’ve lost a lot of people, Shiro,” Keith stumbles over his words as he tries to explain, blinking away the tears in his eyes. “People I was close to. You’ve already made your place as someone who’s more important to me than my own life,” he lets out a sad laugh. “You see why I can’t? If I lost you...”

Arms wrap around him and he tenses up. His first instinct is to push Shiro away, not wanting to continue with this, but his embrace doesn’t even falter. Shiro’s arms are strong around him and he’s so  _ warm, _ so Keith feels pretty pathetic over how he clings to him only seconds later.

Fingers brush through his hair, an action that brings another wave of calm, and he slumps against Shiro even further. 

They stay like that for god knows how long, Keith with his head on Shiro’s shoulder and Shiro combing through Keith’s hair with his fingers as they hug. 

When Shiro starts to pull away Keith almost reels him back in, stopping when he realizes that he only moved back a few inches. He opens his mouth to speak but Shiro shakes his head and smiles. It takes his breath away, brighter than the sun but softer than all the others he’s received.

“There’s not a lot of good in this world,” Shiro murmurs in a voice so tender that it makes Keith  _ tremble. _ His eyes are warm and they never stray away from Keith, making him feel like he’s everything and more. “Sometimes I think that there never will be again, but all I have to do is look at you and I’m reminded that there is something worth fighting for.”

“Shiro,” Keith croaks out, grasping his shirt. “Don’t—”

“This can be our good, Keith.” Shiro’s lips are hovering over his own and when he speaks his breath fans out across them, causing Keith to release a barely there whimper. “This can be our good.”

“I  _ can’t _ lose you,” Keith says, but his voice sounds weak even to him. “I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if I do.”

“You don’t think I feel the same way?” Shiro smiles at him again, so open and free and beautiful. He rests a palm across Keith’s cheek and he can’t help but lean into the touch, eyes fluttering shut as he relaxes because of the confident assurance that Shiro says next. 

“We won’t lose each other as long as we stay together.”

They kiss.

He doesn’t know who initiated it and finds that he doesn’t really care to know who did, the feel of Shiro’s lips against his own and stubble along his skin almost overwhelming already. It spreads a comfortable warmth all over his body and it makes him press even closer to Shiro, the slow kiss building up until they’re making soft noises.

Eventually, they break apart and Keith rests his forehead against Shiro’s, breathing hard. Shiro has the same reaction and when Keith lays a hand on his chest, above his heart, he discovers that it’s beating fast like his own.

“Don’t die, Takashi,” Keith whispers, even though he knows it’s impossible to keep a promise like that. He still pleads with him, wanting the reassurance that he’s craved since he first let Shiro in, “Don’t leave me.”

“Never,” Shiro replies, just as quiet. “We won’t ever leave each other, okay?”

Keith squeezes him tighter and feels Shiro do the same. “Okay.”

They linger in the small space they’ve created, a world where everything is okay, a universe where only the two of them exist—drawn together like magnets when they’re leaning in once again.

“Can I kiss you?” Shiro breathes out with a nervous note to his tone, even though they kissed only seconds before. 

His fingers touch Keith’s cheek, sending off sparks through his body this time, and Keith just barely contains his shiver. A thumb glides over his bottom lip and he catches the  _ want _ in Shiro’s eyes, lightly kissing the appendage and then moving away from him.

“Catch me,” Keith tells him.

Keith takes a step back every time Shiro leans in, grinning at him as they continue this little dance around the room. It’s a game where everyone’s a winner, and it finally comes to an end when his back hits a wall. He laughs at Shiro’s small  _ gotcha _ before lips press against his own.

It’s nothing like the previous one, heat spreading through his body when he feels a tongue against his own. He couldn’t stop his moan from slipping out even if he tried, reaching out to tug off Shiro’s belt and then unbutton his jeans.

A hand around his wrist stops him from doing the latter. “You sure?” Shiro asks, and there’s a definite shakiness to his voice.

Keith responds by pulling his hand back, taking off both his jeans and shirt until he’s left in just a sports bra and his boyshorts. He keeps his gaze on Shiro’s face and likes the way his eyes follow the lines of Keith’s body, lips twitching over the audible swallow that comes from Shiro when he pulls his sports bra off.

“Yes,” he still answers, pushing up Shiro’s shirt. “I want this, I want _ you. _ ”

Shiro’s next kiss is frenzied and hard, paired with hands that grip his hips before gliding up to tentatively touch his chest. Keith ignores his hesitation and stops to grab Shiro’s left hand, guiding it up. He makes the smallest noise when Shiro squeezes, eyeing the way his lips curve up as if enjoying Keith’s response.

“You’re still wearing it,” Shiro suddenly whispers and Keith feels him thumb the pendant that rests on the center of his chest, the one he had gotten for Christmas. 

“Of course I am,” he replies, finally taking off Shiro’s clothes and leading him over to the bed. “I’ve never taken it off since you gave it to me.”

He pushes Shiro back so that he’s sitting on it, slipping his underwear off before slowly straddling him. “I want you like this,” Keith tells him, stomach flipping over the awed expression on Shiro’s face. He guides Shiro’s hand again, this time bringing it much lower, and gasps when a finger slides in easily. “I want to look at you when we do this.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Shiro murmurs in a reverent tone, other hand gliding along his skin. The contrast of it causes him to shiver, covering his mouth when he moans after another finger is pushed inside. God, he’s so  _ wet _ already. “Let me hear you, okay?”

Cheeks flooding with heat, Keith nods and lets his hand drop. Normally he’d be too embarrassed to even listen to a suggestion like that but the way Shiro is staring at him actually coaxes him to do so, and the way his hips rock up when Keith releases another soft noise helps.

Shiro seems to be completely focused on him, which is simply unacceptable. He moves back a bit, shaking his head when Shiro tries to follow and pushes him back again. “I want to try something,” he says, breath hitching when Shiro’s fingers leave his cunt. “Is that okay? It’ll be good for you too.”

When Shiro nods he leans down to give him a quick kiss. Straightening up again, his eyes flick from his own hands to Shiro’s face from time to time as he slowly sinks down until Shiro’s dick is resting between his folds—not inside him, that’ll be for later.

“I’ve never done this before,” Keith admits as he gives a small roll of his hips, breathing out harshly when the head of his dick bumps against his clit. “Other stuff, sure, but not this.”

He falls silent after that so he can focus on what he's doing, keeping his movements slow and even leaning back to stroke him a few times. Shiro is mostly quiet, though a few groans spill out now and then—eyes half-lidded as he gazes up at Keith before he suddenly leans up, lips pressed against Keith’s fluttering pulse.

“Can I…” Shiro’s hand comes up to his chest, thumb rubbing over his nipple. Keith responds by grinding down against him with an almost silent whimper, already nodding his head.

Keith can feel Shiro’s smile against his skin and the satisfaction radiating from him, hips stuttering when lips move down to his right nipple. Shiro licks over it before wrapping his mouth around it and  _ sucks, _ causing Keith to stop moving—feeling a bit overwhelmed. 

The other hand grips his hip, squeezing as if to offer encouragement to move.

So, he does.

Shiro spends a lot of time on his chest, sucking marks into every bit of skin. Teeth even graze over his nipples, sending shivers down his spine. It’s good, really good, but with the feel of Shiro  _ against _ his core, Keith realizes it’s not enough.

“Shiro,” he whispers shakily. “I need you.”

The scar across Shiro’s nose fades a little with his rising flush, eyes darkening as he squeezes Keith’s hip. He leans forward so he can kiss the place his scar rests and repeats himself, saying it like a question this time. Shiro nods and then stops, a worried furrow to his brow.

“Condom?” he asks. 

“Don’t need one,” Keith murmurs and smirks when he hears Shiro’s sharp inhale. Then, just to be sure, “Is that okay with you? We don’t have to if—”

“I want to,” Shiro breathes out.

Keith’s wet enough to not need much prep but he still welcomes Shiro’s fingers when they return to his cunt, three of them fitting inside as Shiro spreads and curls them however he likes. He reciprocates with a few more strokes, nodding his head when he can no longer wait.

They don’t say anything more, not until Keith is sinking down onto him with a low moan, leaning down to kiss Shiro as he slowly starts to ride him. He can feel his necklace bouncing on his chest when he chooses to speed up and groans when Shiro leans up with an arm wrapped around him, feeling him slip in  _ deeper _ as they continue to kiss.

“I love you,” Shiro whispers against his lips. Keith whimpers. “I love you so much.”

His heart  _ soars. _

“I love you too.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Keith is the first to wake up.

It’s still dark out but light is slowly starting to filter in, the sun rising and bringing forth a new day. Despite the fact that he’s already awake, he can already feel himself starting to doze off—Shiro’s heartbeat beneath his ear lulling him to sleep again. He’s content here, half on top of Shiro while feeling safe and comfortable, and decides to give in.

He’s earned the right to rest as much as he wants.

The second time he wakes is because of lips pressing against his skin, teeth grazing over a few spots and hands gliding along his sides. He mumbles something that sounds like Shiro’s name and feels the rumble of laughter that vibrates through the man, releasing a small hum when he’s kissed. Keith opens his eyes once they’ve broken apart and offers up a small smile when he looks up at Shiro.

“Good morning.” Shiro says happily before lowering his head again, kissing down his throat. He then moves over to Keith’s shoulder, where his scar rests, and lays his lips on it. These kisses are much softer than the previous ones, reverence shown in them. One hand stops at his hip, thumb stroking over bone as Shiro’s lips work along his chest now.

Keith brings a hand up to lightly tug at Shiro’s hair, voice rough with sleep when he responds with his own greeting, “Morning.” 

The hint of tongue that’s paired with these kisses makes him squirm a bit.

“Sleep well?”

“Better than ever.”

Shiro lifts his head and smiles. “That’s good.” 

There’s a hand on his thigh, one that spreads it further before doing the same to the other one. Keith twitches when he feels a finger brush along his folds and nods in response to the question that lies within Shiro’s eyes, rocking his hips to meet Shiro’s when he shifts forward.

It’s slower than before, much more intimate with the whispers of each other’s names and the way their foreheads are pressed together. The kisses they share muffle their noises, though some still spill out, everything else loud in the small silence they’ve created.

When they’re done they stay in the same position, breathing hard and eyes closed as they come down. His breath hitches when Shiro pulls out, trying to close his legs when he feels Shiro’s release start to leak out. They’re just spread once again.

“You made a mess, Takashi.” Keith tries to scold, only for the act to be broken when Shiro starts to gently push two fingers into his hole. “I-I think it’s only fair that you clean it up yourself.”

The smirk on Shiro’s face tells Keith that he completely agrees with that statement. “Then you better stay still.” 

He moves down and Keith shivers when Shiro’s lips graze one thigh before pressing firmly against it. A gasp leaves his lips when he feels him suddenly bite down, not too hard but not too soft either, followed by Shiro sucking the same spot. Keith knows that a mark will be left behind and, judging by the look of satisfaction on Shiro’s face, he knows it too.

Then, without hesitation, Shiro leans forward licks across his folds. Keith tips his head back and tries his best to keep still just like Shiro ordered.

Shiro cleans him up with enthusiasm, enough that Keith feels heat starting to build up again. This time he can’t help but roll his hips towards Shiro’s mouth, especially when Shiro starts licking and sucking in a way that makes Keith arch his back and whine. He gets to do exactly what he’s imagined and grips Shiro’s hair to pull his mouth even closer, hearing his low groan, and chokes on a moan when Shiro makes him come again.

Afterwards, Keith reaches down to smooth Shiro’s hair back and manages a smile. “You’re on a roll today,” he says breathlessly. “What brought this on?”

“Just wanted to, that’s all.” Shiro peers up at him, nothing but honesty in his eyes. “I love you.”

Keith’s smile grow wider and he turns his face away so he can hide it. “Love you too.”

“I didn’t quite catch that, baby,” Shiro says teasingly. “I think I’ll hear it better if you’re looking at me.”

His cheeks grow warm when he meets Shiro’s gaze, catching the softness in them. Shiro moves up his body until he’s hovering over him. Keith rests a hand on his cheek and strokes his thumb across Shiro’s cheekbone, speaking clearly, “I love you too.”

“It’s so nice to hear you say that,” Shiro says softly, face lit up with happiness. Keith eyes flutter shut when their noses rub against each other, a sweet gesture that fills him with bubbly warmth.

“We should just stay here,” Keith sighs out, content with their position.

Shiro chuckles. “As much as I’d like to,” he says. “I think we should actually go out and see the others.”

“Why?” Keith asks, frowning.

As if on cue, there's a knock on the door. 

"You guys done yet?" comes Lance's voice. Keith sighs and opens his eyes so he can glare at it, swatting Shiro's arm when he sees him smile. "There's something we all need to talk about."

"No," Keith calls out, shoving Shiro off of him when he starts shaking with silent laughter. "Leave!"

"Listen, I'm happy for the two of you. I really am,” Lance says. “But this is pretty important."

"So is this!" Keith lowers his voice, turning his glare onto Shiro as he hits the man with his pillow, "Stop laughing, Takashi! It's not even funny."

Lance doesn’t leave, though. “Someone from Lotor’s community is here,” he says, voice serious. “We have them tied up in the lobby.”

That stops Shiro’s laughter completely, a grim look overtaking his face. Keith is certain that he’s wearing the same expression. “We’ll be out in a sec,” he says when the silence stretches on, sliding off the bed to grab his clothes off the floor and tossing Shiro his own.

Once they’re both dressed, they open the door and follow Lance out. When they reach the bottom of the stairs, right before entering the lobby, Coran and Pidge are waiting for them.

“We wouldn’t have bothered you if we could get answers from him on our own,” Coran looks apologetic. “But we’ve gotten nothing beyond his previous location, and then he said that he would only speak to you, Keith.”

“Me?” Keith asks in surprise. “Why me?”

“We don’t know,” Pidge grabs his wrist and tugs him forward. “Which is why  _ you  _ have to go out there and find out everything you can.”

Shiro goes with him and if it were anyone else, Keith would be annoyed by the protectiveness he’s emitting but he’s able to ignore it this time just because it’s Shiro. He knows that it’s a genuine feeling.

After all, he did lose Keith once already.

Hunk and Allura are standing guard when they enter the room, arms crossed as they glare at the person they have tied to a chair. The air in the room is tense, distrusting, but it lightens a bit when they catch sight of him.

“We’ll take it from here,” Keith tells them, and they leave after exchanging nods.

He turns his attention onto the man before him, wondering why he looks so familiar. Keith narrows his eyes and takes a step closer, shaking Shiro’s hand off his arm.

“I know you,” Keith murmurs curiously, tilting his head as if a different angle will help him remember. It comes back to him in an instant, eyes going wide as he exclaims, “You’re the one who guarded my room!”

“Yes,” the man says. “My name is Thace. I’m happy to see that you and your friends made it out of here alive.”

“Are you?” Keith arches a brow. “What are you doing here? How did you find us?”

Thace opens his mouth, probably to answer, but he’s cut off before anything comes out.

“Gonna try and finish the job?” Shiro demands, and he steps  _ in front  _ of Keith as if he needs to be protected. “Still following Lotor’s instruction even after he’s long gone?”

“Shiro!” Keith hisses, trying his hardest to not feel irritated, and grips his arm so he can push him behind again. “He’s one of the good ones! Stop that!”

“I admire your wariness, I’ll admit,” Thace says, gaining his attention again. “But, to answer your questions: I don’t plan on killing any of you. I just wanted to talk to you.” He snorts, sounding unamused. “I may have been in Lotor’s community but that does not mean I obeyed him like the rest. I hated him.”

“Solidarity,” Keith mutters, letting go of Shiro to place his hands on his hips. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I want you to come with me.” Thace replies, gazing back at him steadily. “I’m here to offer you something better than this hotel. A new home for all of you—a place where you can stay safe for the rest of your life.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Keith doesn’t know how they all agreed to this.

He brought it up with the others, leaving Shiro in the room with Thace, and stood there with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as they argued over it.

Strangely enough, it was  _ Hunk _ who got them all agree to give it a chance. He simply said that he was tired of constantly feeling wary and afraid, wanting to live out his life without death lurking around every corner. It got the others to admit the same thing, voices filled with smallest hint of hope when they looked to Keith and asked,  _ “Do you think it might be real?” _

Allura was the only one who didn’t say a thing, so Keith said nothing until she gave the okay—which she did with a nod after a long period of silence, arms crossed and looking very unsure with the situation.

So now here they are, a couple of hours into their walk to the possibility of their own safe haven with Thace at the lead. They kill off any of the infected that get too close, taking little breaks to pass a water bottle around and stuff a granola bar into their mouths.

Keith feels as though he’s getting better at using his sword, slicing off the heads of infected and jabbing the blade through their skulls to end them for the second time. He’s taken to using it more than his knife, keeping it in his hand even as pavement meets dirt.

He stays by Shiro’s side, their hands brushing against each other’s and sharing smiles whenever they look at each other.

This thing between them, already named and so very real, fills him with a vast amount of warmth. It overfills and spills, leaving him breathless over this feeling of being loved and loving someone—new and intoxicating for him because he’s never had something like this, and it’s something he hopes that he’ll get to keep.

_ I won’t let anything happen to you. _ Keith promises to himself, bumping their shoulders together and linking their pinkies when he gets close enough. He’s rewarded with a softer look from Shiro.

The two of them, himself and Shiro, are ahead of the others, pace matched with Thace. Keith takes the time to look around and enjoy everything—wind rustling the leaves on the trees, the small  _ crunch  _ as he steps on dirt, the smell of nature.

It’s a peaceful setting, still, despite all that has happened.

“We call this community  _ Marmora, _ ” Thace explains suddenly, capturing his attention. “It was formed once the first news reports started coming in, a place to protect ourselves and live out the rest of our days without worrying about unwanted death.”

“But it still happened,” Keith says quietly. There had been another discussion after Thace had mentioned a possible safe place for them, saying that there had been two reasons for the losses of some of their members. “Because of Zarkon and Lotor.”

“Exactly.” 

Thace’s face grows wearier, sadder, like the weight of all those deaths continue to live on his shoulders. They probably do, Keith realizes, knowing that he must look the same way at times. It’s not just him, either. All of his friends gain similar expressions from time to time

Loved ones never truly leave you, even after they die.

The path leads through a cluster of trees and Thace stops before they walk through. “We’re almost there,” he says. “I know this has been a long trip but it’ll be worth it, I promise you.”

And he’s right.

Continuing their journey, the trail widens and stops at a tall gate with equally tall walls. Thace walks toward it, lifting his hand and waving.

Keith sees nothing at first, the gate covered in a metal sheet that blocks off the divided spaces, but  _ they _ must be seen because it slides open to reveal several people standing there.

“Thace,” one man says in surprise, looking as if he’s about to take a step forward. He has a long, pointed face with prominent cheekbones, and only stops moving when another man shoots him a look—this one with a long braid wrapped around his neck and a scar down one eye.

“What brings you here with  _ strangers,  _ Thace?” the latter asks, face distrustful as he gazes in their direction. Keith doesn’t even feel insulted because he’d be feeling the same way. “You know we don’t allow—”

“Lotor is dead,” Thace says, cutting him off. “The one with the sword,  _ his _ sword, killed him.”

All attention is on Keith in an instant and he shifts uncomfortably beneath the weight of their stares, resisting the urge to take a step back. He swallows and holds the weapon up higher, showing it off.

“Come on in,” the one with the braid says, and a few people leave his side until only himself and two others remain. The three of them stay there as Thace leads Keith and his friends in, the gate closing behind them. He continues to stare at the sword and then, quite suddenly, meets Keith’s gaze and says, “I’m Kolivan. I apologize for my rudeness.”

“Don’t,” Keith replies. “I completely understand.”

Allura introduces them all to the three while they’re led deeper into this safe haven and, in return, they’re introduced to the two that stay at Kolivan’s side. Ulaz, the man who called out to Thace when the gates opened, and Antok, a man whose face is shielded by a hood. 

Thace and Kolivan begin to converse quietly as they walk up to a building. A woman steps out and offers them a smile when she looks their way. Keith can’t help but think that she looks remarkably similar to Pidge, not by a lot but definitely in her features and hair.

“Newcomers?” The woman asks, turning to Kolivan. “Did you ask them if they know Katie?”

One of the Marmora members shifts away just as the door opens again, a man stepping out. He uses a cane as he walks over to stand next to the woman, both wearing the same hopeful expression. Pidge suddenly straightens up against him, eyes wide and bright with tears.

“Mom?” she breathes out and starts to tremble. “Dad?” Another person comes out of the building and Keith tightens his hold around her when she crumbles in place. Pidge’s voice cracks when she speaks again, looking as if she can’t believe what she’s seeing, “ _ Matt? _ ”

They all turn as one and Keith watches as their eyes go wide. He gives Pidge a little push after a few moments of nothing, offering an encouraging smile when she looks at him. “Go,” he whispers and then she’s off, running straight at them and nearly knocking the one named Matt down as she practically throws herself at him.

Even from where he stands he can hear her relieved words, quickly followed by a sob, “I’m so happy that you all made it.”

“We have our old base nearby,” Kolivan says, dragging his attention away from his friend’s happy reunion. He holds his hands out, palm-up, and smiles. “It’s smaller than this one but it should be big enough for all of you to live in, and more if you plan on adding others.”

“Why?” Keith asks after sharing a wary look with Shiro. “What did we do to deserve it?”

“Keith!” Lance hisses from behind him. “Shut up!”

He ignores him, staring at Kolivan as he awaits an answer.

Kolivan’s smile hasn’t left, relief in his eyes as he points at the sword that Keith slid back into its sheath. “That’s why,” he says, face turning serious. “I’m sure Thace told you that we’ve lost a number of our people because of both Zarkon and Lotor, friends and family members that we’ll never see again. We actually had a plan to take it all down but it was going by too slow, we had no chances.”

“And then I killed him,” Keith says.

“And then you killed him,” Kolivan echoes.

“So your old base is a  _ reward  _ for taking out someone you wanted dead?” Allura steps in, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. “How do we know it’s safe? How do we know it even  _ exists _ ?”

“We have pictures if you’d like to see it,” Thace offers. “We would take you there now but we haven’t checked on it in a while, I think it would be best for some of us to go on ahead and make sure it’s habitable for all of you.”

“Hell yeah!” Lance exclaims. “I wanna see our new home!”

“I second that statement!” Coran says with just as much enthusiasm. “I’d very much like to see these pictures and I’d also like to know how you were able to take pictures. It seems like cameras would be useless nowadays.” 

Kolivan leads them into another building and then to an office that is larger than Lotor’s had ben, and also much more welcoming. A packet of photos is taken out of a shelf and scattered along the desk. From where he stands, Keith can see how promising their potential new home might be.

Coran is much more excited by the camera that can develop photos after they’re taken while Lance is flipping through the pictures with Allura and Hunk. Pidge and her family stand nearby, talking quietly amongst themselves while she clings to her brother. Keith simply leans back against the wall and takes in the peaceful atmosphere.

A flash goes off, effectively blinding him for a few seconds. He rubs at his eyes and blinks away the dark spots in his vision. Keith looks up to see where it came from and squints at Shiro, who grins back at him.

“Did you take a picture of me?” Keith asks when he catches sight of the camera in his hand, a polaroid picture being waved around in the other. He scowls, reaching out for it. “Show it to me.”

“It’s still developing,” Shiro says, and that damn grin doesn’t leave his face. “And you really think I’m gonna hand it over to you? No way! You’ll just rip it!”

“That’s the point.” He tries to grab it, only for Shiro to dance away. “Takashi! Give it here!”

“Nope!”

Keith actually manages to snatch the photo out of Shiro’s grasp, holding him away with one hand as he gazes down at it.

In the picture, Keith has a small smile on his face. He looks pretty tranquil in a way that he doesn’t recognize, no more tired lines in his face and body relaxed. It feels like he’s seeing an alternate version of himself.

The photo is taken away and Keith doesn’t try to take it back, looking up to see Shiro’s understanding expression. It shifts to a sadder one, puppy-dog eyes on display.

“Let me keep it?” Shiro asks. “Please, baby? So I can carry it with me all the time?”

He looks so god damn adorable that Keith has to look away so he won’t give in. The pet name is already making him melt, convincing him to say yes.

“You don’t need it,” Keith mutters. “I’m right here.”

“I know. But it’s cute.” Shiro says, pressing a kiss to Keith’s forehead after wrapping an arm around his waist and tugging him closer. “How about this? I can keep it as long as you keep one of me? I’ll even let you take the photo!”

“Who says I want one of you?” Keith grumbles, ignoring the amused yet knowing look that Shiro wears. “Okay,  _ fine _ —but only under one more condition.”

“What?”

“We take one together as well.”

Shiro looks so unbelievably happy about this. “Should someone else take it or should I try to angle the camera to do so?” he asks.

Keith grabs the camera from him, searching around the room and then walking over to Thace. He feels completely embarrassed as he holds it out to the man, gesturing to Shiro and himself. “Uh, could you take a picture of us?”

Thace raises an eyebrow. “Why not ask your friends?”

“They’re a bit busy, you know.” Keith replies.

Thankfully, he agrees to do so and has the two of them stand together in a more secluded corner of the room. Keith has his arm around Shiro’s waist while Shiro has one around his shoulders, the typical couple pose that he allows without complaint.

Thace counts down from five and right when he says  _ two,  _ Shiro places one hand on his cheek before turning Keith towards him. His eyes close automatically once Shiro leans in, distantly aware of the flash going off as he melts into the kiss. He doesn’t care that it’s probably the cheesiest thing he’s ever done, not when his entire focus is on the way Shiro’s lips feel against his own.

Keith nearly pushes to deepen it, so ready to guide Shiro back into a wall and allow this to evolve into making out, when someone clears their throat and forces them apart. 

It takes a moment to recall exactly where they are and feels himself grow flushed with mortification, hiding his face in Shiro’s chest so he won’t have to look around the room. Keith feels more than hears Shiro’s huff of laughter, gripping his shirt tightly as Shiro suddenly shifts forward and back.

“Hey, we look good.” Shiro says after a few seconds, forcing him to look up. He’s waving the picture around so Keith grabs his wrist to keep his hand still, staring at it.

Keith was right about it being cheesy but so is Shiro, they  _ do _ look good.

There’s a hint of an upward curve to their lips, pressed so close to each other. It doesn’t show their full faces and yet Keith can clearly see the happiness that they display, an emotion that bursts in his chest once again at the sight of Shiro’s smile when he looks up.

He leans up to kiss him, keeping it soft and brief so they don’t get lost in each other again.

They’ll have enough time for that later.

☆ ☆ ☆

They walk to the other base in silence, the sound of their boots walking along the dirt trail loud in his ears. Keith’s heart is racing somewhat, mouth dry as they grow closer and closer. He glances at the faces of his friends, taking in their excitement, wariness, and fear. 

He wonders if it’s because of their past experience, making a life in one community only to lose it in a blink of an eye. Are they afraid that it might happen again? Are they trying their hardest to not think that everything will be fine, not wanting to get their hopes up?

It’s what Keith thought of when he first walked through their gates, still carrying around the weight of Lotor’s community, the small group he joined up with, and the fall of his safe zone. He tried his best to crush any hope that remained after all of that, because what was the point if history would repeat itself?

Then, Shiro happened.

Keith remembers how he acted with Shiro at first, and doesn’t even have to wonder how they both got from then to now—Keith was so closed off and wary while Shiro had only been kind and friendly, compared to now where the two of them completely in love with each other.

And isn’t that another strange feeling? 

Love was always complicated for him in relationships, rarely or never felt. He couldn’t understand it and didn’t even try to when other people made attempts at loving him, not wanting to let them in and give them his heart like he’d seen others do with their partners.

With Shiro? It comes as easy as breathing.

As far as Keith’s concerned, Shiro will be the only one who gets to have his love. They’re both definitely  _ not _ perfect but Keith doesn’t care, he’ll never care, because he loves Shiro—faults and all—and will continue to love him until the day he dies, and that’s a thought that feels right.

(Shiro has his heart.)

A hand slips into his own, fingers interlocking with his. He glances over to see that Shiro’s watching him with a serene expression. There’s a softness to his eyes that causes warmth to spread across Keith’s cheeks, happiness bubbling up within him.

“We’re gonna be okay,” says Shiro, confidence in his words. “All of us.”

The gates to their new home creak open and he can hear the gasps coming from their friends but Keith doesn’t look in that direction yet, smiling at Shiro instead.

“Yeah,” says Keith. “We will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading all of this! I hope you loved it as much as I do! If you ever want to see more of my content, or just talk to me about sheith or Voltron, then you can find me at these two places!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/viribirb) | [tumblr](http://madkingray.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see more of my content or just want to talk to me, you can find me here!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/viribirb) | [tumblr](http://madkingray.tumblr.com/)


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